


Hand in Hand

by Couyfish, Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Coffee, Crowley Has a Heart, Crowley and Feelings, Demonic Possession, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Feels, Fluff, Hellhounds, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Crowley, Lonely Sam, Longing, Loss of Grace, M/M, Moosely - Freeform, POV Sam Winchester, Pining, Possessed Sam Winchester, Sam in Glasses, Sharing a Body, Sigils, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 49,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Couyfish/pseuds/Couyfish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Somebody’s slapped a symbol on Crowley that keeps him out of Hell – and that is slowly killing him. Sam wants to research a way around it, but the demon seems content just to spend his last few days in the Moose’s company.





	1. No Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, here comes another mushy Supernatural fic! We’ve had a busy couple of months, but we’re back on the band wagon. This time we decided to try a new pairing that we haven’t done yet, and I’M SO FREAKING EXCITED. I ship all the ships and this is a ship that I haven’t written yet: Moosely. I’m a huge fan of Crowley and it’s exciting to see him join the lineup of characters in our fanfics. We had been sticking to just Dean, Sammy and Castiel before. Time to mix it up! I hope you enjoy. ❤ ~BeingCouy
> 
> Well, it's finally happened. We've dragged Crowley into our fanfic antics. I'd feel sorry for him, but he gets to spend a lot of time around Sam, so it could be a lot worse. This is going to be another 10+ chapter fic, and we'll be updating regularly. Stay tuned! - Threshie ❤
> 
> * * *

With a sigh, Sam pulled his feet up on to the smelly motel couch. God only knew what had happened on it. He tried not to think about it and focus on the task at hand: locating a job. 

He had already been browsing most of the morning without any luck. Dean was due back soon and then they’d probably be back on the road again. Yawning widely, Sam ran a hand through his bed tussled hair. He clicked through a few more web pages before shutting the laptop and sitting it aside. He looked over the worn motel room. Why did these places always pick ugly wallpaper? 

He frowned at the garish orange walls with lemon yellow and grass green blobs printed all over it. 

Were those…pineapples? 

He sank back against the couch arm, leaning to pull his copy of Grimm’s fairy tales from his backpack. Staring at a screen all day gave him a headache. Sometimes there just wasn’t a substitute for a good old fashioned leather bound book. He smiled to himself and thumbed through it slowly, stopping on the classic painting of a blond girl in rags settled by a hearth. 

A dead dad. It felt a little too close to home. Sam frowned. 

Fairytales were full of dead parents and evil — both a little too real. He considered swapping Grimm out for Disney something-or-other. Too bad cutesy stuff like that wasn’t written like a novel and bound in leather. Maybe he’d just read that vapid, shallow magazine from the bedstand about ways to organize your pens. 

Cue another yawn. 

“Late one last night?” The slightly smug comment from the other end of the couch sure snapped Sam awake quick. There was no mistaking that voice.

“What are you doing here?” Sam managed, fixing Crowley with a scowl and slamming his book shut. Why the King of Hell was bothering HIM on a Sunday morning was beyond him. It probably had something to do with tricking him into doing some evil deed. Sam’s groggy brain couldn’t come up with what that might be, but he was determined not to be tricked. 

Or kidnapped. He shifted to put his feet back on the floor just in case. 

“Aww, it’s good to see you, too,” the demon said fondly, like Sam’s reaction had been a warm greeting. Crowley was dressed in a suit and tie, and looked well-groomed, as usual. It even looked like he’d shaved for whatever occasion today turned out to be. That just made Sam more suspicious.

“In your Sunday best? Nice.” Deciding to play it cool, Sam turned and casually dropped the book back into his backpack before facing off with his unwanted guest. He didn’t have the caffeine levels to deal with demon nonsense yet. He got up and circled around the couch toward the bed. The half drank glass of water on the nightstand was actually holy water. 

Just in case. 

Crowley glanced down at himself like he’d just noticed he was so well-dressed, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes, Moose, the King of Hell is off to CHURCH,” he said drolly, leaning back on the couch. He draped an arm over the back, apparently unconcerned with whether Sam was arming himself. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw that the demon also thought the wallpaper was ugly. There was no other explanation for that cringe when he looked at it, was there? It WAS cringe-worthy.

Snagging the glass of water, Sam returned to the couch. Where the hell was Dean? Cas just said that his tire popped. Changing a tire took ten minutes! He sat back down and sipped the water. Then he glanced at Crowley again, taking in the suit all over again. He felt a little out gunned in his pajama pants and t-shirt. 

“Seriously. What do you want?” 

Crowley’s attention promptly switched back to him. It took a second for him to slap on a smile, though, his eyes twinkling. 

“…Would you believe it if I said I just missed you THAT much?”

“No,” Sam snorted. He laid back against the couch, balancing the water glass on his leg and keeping his eyes locked on Crowley. “Dean’s gonna be back in a few minutes, so if you’re going to try something without him around — get on with it. Or leave.” 

Maybe it had something to do with the whole Mark of Cain thing. Sam eyed Crowley more carefully. The demon had been talking to Dean more than Sam lately. So had Castiel. Hell, no one really talked to him anymore. Trying to hide how much that bothered him, he took a sip of water. He liked being alone. It gave him time to read… Wait a minute. What if that’s what was taking Dean and Cas so long? Were they off hunting together? Sam slumped. Great. Dean was back to excluding him again. 

“I need to discuss something with you,” Crowley admitted, eyeing the water glass Sam still held. Abruptly, he got to his feet, straightening his tie. “If your brother and his pet angel are coming back, then I’ll have to drop by later, though.”

“Whoa, wait.” Sam stood up as well, clutching the water glass tightly. He frowned down at the well-dressed demon. “You aren’t even going to tell me what you want? Why even show up?” 

Not even the King of Hell wanted to talk to him. 

Crowley seemed pleased he didn’t just wave him away. He smiled, although it was sort of an unhappy one. 

“Well, I—” 

The familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine from somewhere outside interrupted him, and he glanced at the door with an exasperated sigh. 

“…I really more need to SHOW you than to tell you. Alone, though — don’t tell the others, they’ll just muddle everything up.”

That sounded WAY too suspicious. Sam frowned at him, but gave him a little nod. It wasn’t like he had to keep his word — not with Crowley. Though he was a little curious what Crowley wanted. It was something that he wanted enough to crawl out of his hell hole and bother Sam. They’d probably be heading back to the bunker anyway. Not even the King of Hell could get inside. 

“No promises.” 

They could hear car doors slamming now, and the familiar tones of voice from Sam’s brother and Castiel. The voices were too muffled to make out words, though. Crowley, meanwhile, was directing Sam with a knowing look and smiling again. It was a softer smile this time, somehow. 

“Of course not.” 

And then he was gone.

Sam tried his best not to look guilty as the door to the crappy motel room pushed open. He spun to sit back down on the couch, but ended up dumping the holy water straight onto the cushions. He stared at it. That was probably the least repulsive thing that had ever been dumped on that couch. 

"...Might be time for a new car," Dean was grumbling as he and Castiel stepped through the door.

"I like that one," the angel replied gloomily, looking over at Sam. It probably seemed off that the tall brunette was standing around by the couch instead of sitting on it.

Both Cas and Dean has grease all over their hands and shirt fronts. The angel's tan trench coat had definitely seen better days. It sure didn't look like they'd been changing a tire.

Shoving his hands as casually as he could into his PJ pants pockets, Sam forced a smile. They were just working on the car, he assured himself. 

“H-hey. Did you get coffee?” He stammered. Mentally kicking himself for being awkward, he hurried to grab the hand towel from the ‘kitchen.’ 

Dean sighed heavily, shoving the slightly oil-stained brown paper bag he carried onto the kitchen counter. 

“Knew we forgot something. We were gonna get espresso at the end so it wouldn’t get cold, but we got a little…sidetracked.” He shot Cas a pointed frown. 

The angel frowned back. 

“The car trouble wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t a flat tire, either! We’d need a friggin’ tow truck to get that car moved,” Dean grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Well, now it matched his oily shirt and hands. Cas looked sad at mention of how bad off his car was, and sat down heavily on the couch. A few oil stains might help cover up the others, and the smell couldn’t get much worse than it already was.

Sam gave up on the couch and just tossed the kitchen rag over the water stain. He patted their angelic friend’s shoulder nicely before retreating back to the bed to get dressed. He slipped a dark blue flannel shirt on over his tee and swapped his PJs out for some jeans. Pretty standard, really. His thoughts drifted back to the way that Crowley had been all dressed up again. He glanced down at his clothes and went to dig in his backpack. Maybe he had a button up somewhere. 

“That sounds bad. Is it wrecked?” He called back to his brother vaguely. 

"He didn't crash it," Dean replied vaguely, still grumbling. "We couldn't figure out what's wrong with it, but it's sure as hell not a tire."

"The steering wheel was wobbling," Cas explained, sounding annoyed that Dean was still annoyed. "I called you before I looked under the hood, Dean."

"Nobody's driving it home," Dean concluded flatly. "We either leave it somewhere or we have somebody tow it all the way back to Kansas."

"Or we fix it," Cas replied stubbornly.

Exchanging the blue flannel for a white button up, Sam finally caught what they were saying. 

“What? No. We need to go back to the bunker.” He turned to Dean and shook his head. “We can’t just hang around until you guys figure out what’s wrong with Cas’s car. Sorry Cas,” he added to the angel. “We’ll find you a new car, but we need to go home.” 

Castiel sat up somewhat stiffly and got to his feet.

"Why? We aren't working any cases right now. I can't fix it on my own...I need Dean." He glanced at Sam's brother with sad blue eyes. "If it was your car, we would stay and fix it."

"Baby's practically a member of the family," Dean protested, crossing his arms defensively. Sam could tell that the angel's argument had some merit to him, though.

Maybe he should just head home alone? That sort of left him alone along the way, but Crowley had yet to be bold enough to appear in the car with him. Or in their motel rooms. This time. Sam frowned. It bothered him way more that Crowley wanted to get him alone. He didn’t want Dean or Cas around. Running off on his own was just stupid. 

“Okay, okay.” Sam held up his hands, looking between the two of them tiredly. “We’ll stay and fix the car. Cas has a good point. If it was Baby, we wouldn’t just leave her by the roadside.” 

Dean held up his oily hands in defeat, shrugging.

"Fine. We'll get it towed to a mechanic and figure out what's wrong with it. I'm not sure it's fixable, though, Cas. Doesn't look good from what I saw."

The angel nodded – a single nod only – and stepped toward the bathroom. 

"Thank you." 

He retreated inside without further comment, probably to wash all of the grease off.

Sam watched Castiel go, turning to frown at his brother. Crowley had asked him not to tell them about his little request for a private rendezvous. Sam cringed at his own brain using that word in the same train of thought as Crowley. 

“Uh,” he shook off the thought and sighed. “Coffee. We should go get coffee.” Together, he added silently. Cas knew how to operate a shower by himself. 

Still looking bothered by the entire conversation with Cas, Dean frowned and stepped toward the door again.

"Right. There's a little espresso stand around the corner."


	2. A Week

After standing around in the rain for the tow truck for over an hour, Sam hid in the Impala to sip on his coffee and hopefully dry his clothes out in front of the heater. He was parked just outside of the ramshackle mechanic that they had found. The tiny shop barely had a roof big enough to keep Castiel’s car out of the rain. 

From his warm dry-ish seat, Sam could see the mechanic delivering what appeared to be bad news to Dean and Cas. The angel actually looked upset. Sam frowned and sat his coffee aside. He had better go play mediator or there might be tears. 

"...Looking at at least a week," the man in the grimy coveralls was saying in a bored tone, crossing his arms. "Might want to get a motel room, fellas."

The fact that he said one motel room completely went over Cas's head. He looked at Dean with a frown, obviously ready for an argument about this, too.

Dean (who definitely DID notice the motel room comment, and looked uncomfortable) crossed his arms and shook his head. 

"I don't have a week."

Sam came closer, but didn’t make himself part of the conversation. A week in the motel? Ugh. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid being alone for a week. Especially if Castiel needed Dean’s help with the car. Than again, that’s what the mechanic was for. Which left the three of them twiddling their fingers in a small room with nothing to do. 

Knowing his brother, he’d probably find the nearest watering hole, get drunk and hit on random women. At least he probably wouldn’t take Cas with him for THAT. 

The mechanic shrugged. "Need time to order new parts. Half the engine in that thing's fallin' to pieces. Hope you didn't pay much for it."

Cas looked like he had a response for that, but luckily Dean interrupted him.

"What about if I bring you the parts? You don't need a week to swap them out, do you?"

"Depends on what shape they're in, I guess. Knock yourself out," the man said drolly, shoving a somewhat crumpled list at Sam's brother. He clearly had no confidence in any of them to buy good car parts, with the state Cas's car was in. He also clearly did not care enough to argue.

Sam frowned and went over to join them. 

“Where are you going to find the parts? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He gestured around them before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. He just wanted to be home. Home in a demon-proof bunker with a cup of hot coffee and a good book. 

The mechanic shrugged and headed for the back of the shed. 

"I can't work on it 'til you bring parts back, so...whenever ya feel like it, then."

Dean waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Sam with a withering look. 

"There's got to be a wrecking yard around here somewhere. Or a car nobody's gonna miss." He seemed pretty motivated not to spend a week hanging around here, either, Sam noticed.

Castiel had gone over to stand beside the car, and had a hand resting on the roof. In the pouring rain in his trench coat, it looked far more dramatic than necessary.

“Well,” Sam said, lowering his voice. “Can we leave it here and come back later? That guy could order the parts, fix the car and we could come back in a week and get it. It’s not like we left it on the side of the road or anything.” 

Cas might go for it if he thought his car was going to be well looked after. Not that the mechanic was reassuring about the situation. He seemed to think the car was a pile of garbage, too. 

Dean rubbed his forehead, sighing deeply. 

"Think Cas would rather stay here alone than leave it."

With a sigh of his own, Sam leaned to glance at the list in Dean’s hand. 

“That’s a long list. Are you sure we shouldn’t just get a new car?” He raised an eyebrow at Dean. 

His brother shot a pointed look over at the angel and his car.

"You already heard how much he likes that idea. I don't know WHY, but it's this one or nothing."

Cas started their way, looking glum. Sam headed over to the angel and sat a hand on his shoulder. 

“Cas, we should leave the car here and come back in a week. It’s not in the rain or by the road. Come on. We can’t camp out in the motel for a week.” 

It seemed reasonable when he put it like that. Cas seemed to expect him to say as much, too — he sighed.

"Dean doesn't have a week, but I do. I'll wait here. I don't need to sleep," he said sadly. It seemed to bother him that neither of the brothers cared about the car as much as he did. Maybe he thought of it as part of the family, too. It had been around since he couldn't fly anymore.

“Fine.” With yet another sigh, Sam squeezed Cas's shoulder. “We’ll stay.” He waved to Dean. “Go tell the guy to just order the parts. I’ll…call the motel again.” 

It was gonna be a long week. 

"I'm gonna see if I can find them first. He wants to charge triple if he sells 'em to us," Dean informed him. He glanced at Cas as the angel stepped past, but got no glance in return. Cue a frown.

Sam shook his head and returned to Baby. If Dean stubbornly looked for the parts himself, they could be there forever. 

Crowley hadn’t given him a time for them to meet up. He would probably show up at the least convenient time. Sam yanked the car door open and climbed in, mentally noting to himself that he wasn’t allowed to take a shower until after the demon showed up. 

Cas had just climbed into the back seat, and was sitting there dripping rain everywhere. Unlike Sam, he hadn't taken shelter at any point in the last couple hours, so his clothes were absolutely soaked and his dark hair was plastered down to his forehead.

"Sam, I want to talk to you. Later, without Dean," he said quietly. Before Sam could ask what exactly that implied, his brother was opening the driver side door and climbing in, too.

"Ugh. Okay, let's grab some coffee to warm up and then I'll make some calls, see if there's a wrecking yard anywhere near here..."

“I—” Sam cut himself off and gave Dean a quick nod. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.” They pulled back onto the road. Great — no-one wanted to talk to him for weeks, and now everyone did. Well, except Dean. He seemed to be huffy about something, but as usual, Sam’s older brother didn’t seem to want to share what it was.  


* * *

  
It didn't take long for them to reach the coffee stand — again. They'd only been in town for a couple of days, but the petite blond barista already knew Dean on a first name basis. Possibly first name and phone number now, because she INSISTED he take a punch card since he'd be in town a few more days.

After everybody was armed with espresso, they returned to the motel. Dean was already peeling his wet jacket off as he stepped in the door, muttering something about motor oil.

Sam returned glumly to the horrifying couch. The wet spot from where he dumped holy water had yet to dry, so he took off his shoes and huddled on the other end. They had wasted most of the day with the car drama. They probably should have grabbed something to eat on the way back. Other than coffee. 

He shifted to look at his brother over the couch. 

“Hey, I was gonna order food. Do you want pizza or Thai noodles?” Hopefully Dean had forgotten about the little greasy burger joint they‘d stopped at across town. The food tasted amazing, but Sam could have sworn he felt his heart stalling after eating a burger there. “Or Chinese,” he added quickly. 

"I can pick something up, I have to drive around a bit," Dean said, pulling off his shirt and switching to a dry one. He seemed to be in kind of a hurry. "Unless you're hungry now, then...order whatever. I guess."

Cas still hadn't come in from the car yet, Sam noticed.

“You aren’t taking Cas with you, right?” He stammered, turning to lean on the back of the couch. He didn’t mean it to sound so desperate, so he rubbed his neck. “I, uh, he probably should stay here. Out of the way. He doesn’t know anything about cars and he might get emotional if you can’t find the parts. Yeah, the more I’m thinking about it — yup, he should stay here.” 

Running a hand through his damp hair, Dean turned and gave him a dubious look.

"I kinda figured he wouldn't rest until I fixed it. Acts like I won't try if he's not around," he grumbled.

“Uh, I’ll come with you then!” Sam spun around and started shoving his shoes back on. Cas wanted to talk to him anyways. 

Dean looked at his wet jacket and sighed.

"No...I was gonna tell him to stay here. It's not exactly a party riding around with him all gloomy, and he might try to help with the car parts and just make it worse." Sam recalled all of the grease they'd had on their clothes when they came back to the motel earlier.

Maybe they'd had some kind of fight while trying to work on the car?

Sam paused with only one shoe on and leaned back to look at his brother over the couch again for a long moment before replying. 

“…Okay.” 

Dean hung the jacket on the back corner of the couch and pulled a flannel shirt out of his backpack, shoving it on as he stepped for the door.

"I'll text ya." He closed the door behind him.


	3. Sleeping Beauty

Sam stared at the closed door, a shoe still in hand. He slowly glanced around the room. No Crowley yet. What in the world could Cas want to talk about? Especially when Dean wasn’t around? Maybe he thought Dean was being unreasonable about the car. 

The sound of the door drew his attention back to it. Castiel stepped through and closed it behind him. He stood there, wet trench coat hanging heavily and hair a mess, and frowned at Dean's jacket hanging on the corner of the couch.

"..."

“Hey Cas,” Sam said quietly, slipping his other shoe off without looking away from the bedraggled angel. “What sounds good, Thai or pizza?” He patted the couch. “Or Chinese.” 

"I don't need anything. Order what you want," Cas said flatly, starting to shrug out of his trench coat. Apparently he'd decided to follow Dean's example, because he draped it on the other corner of the couch to dry.

The rest of his clothes were just as wet, but he gave up after that, sitting on the couch beside Sam with a defeated slump to his shoulders.

Watching Cas settle in, Sam flipped on the TV and started to browse. Food could wait. He wasn’t really hungry. He had just figured that Dean would be more grouchy on an empty stomach. Then Dean left, though, so whatever. 

Everything available on TV was expensive, pornographic or both. After a minute or two of browsing, he finally found a movie that was just rated R for violence. The cover had a blond woman in a bright orange striped bikini brandishing a barbecue spatula while fighting off what looked like velociraptors on her back porch. There scene was complete with round grill and lawn chairs. It looked like a real winner, but before all of that — they needed to talk. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” He glanced at the angel. 

Cas glanced over at him slowly, wiping wet hair out of his face finally.

"If you don't mind. I know I've caused enough trouble today," he said.

“Go ahead.” Sam sat the remote down and shifted to face Cas a bit more. At least Cas would try to talk to him when there was an issue, unlike some OTHER people. 

The angel frowned, fidgeting with the sleeve of his white button up shirt. He looked smaller without his trench coat.

"Dean wasn't in any hurry to leave until after my car broke down. He even wanted to go to get breakfast."

“Dean’s always hungry, though. Especially when he’s stressed out,” Sam explained, getting up off of the couch. He'd decided he really shouldn’t stay in wet clothes either, so he rummaged through his backpack. “You know how much he eats.” 

Sam swapped his button up out for his usual plaid and returned to the couch. It was probably the wet jeans, but the room actually felt a little drafty. 

Cas looked at the TV unhappily. 

"I'm not trying to be difficult. If he doesn't want to help me, he should just go," he said. "I can wait the week and he won't have to waste his time. Maybe it would be better to spend time apart anyway."

“Maybe, but you know he’s not going to just leave you here,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. Wow. With the way Castiel phrased that, it sounded like he and Dean were an old married couple on the outs.

Leaving Cas or Dean to their own devices never worked out. Dean wound up with the Mark of Cain on his arm and Cas… And Cas. There were just so many things that he did when left alone. Like work at a gas station. Or get a pimp car. 

Blue eyes glanced his way hesitantly, and Cas sat up a little straighter. 

"I don't know that. He might if I tell him to." He glanced at the TV again, looking like he had more to say, but didn't add anything.

“No, he wouldn’t. You’re like our other brother now and you know how Dean feels about family.” Sam sighed. Dean always acted like an ass, but he was there when they needed him. For the most part. He leaned over and patted Castiel’s arm. “Come on. You’re part of the team.” 

Somehow, that only made the angel look sadder. 

"I know... Thank you, Sam."

Frowning at that reaction, Sam scooted a little closer and lowered his voice. 

“What’s really going on? Come on. This can’t just be over the car.” 

Or maybe it could be. Cas and Dean both had that in common — they were in love with their cars. 

Cas looked at him like maybe it wasn't just about the cars, though.

"...Is Dean going to be gone all evening?" He asked, glancing at the door like Sam's brother might step through any moment.

“Uh, I don’t know.” The look that Cas gave him wasn’t reassuring. If it wasn’t about the cars, what was it? Sam cleared his throat. “Maybe you should text him?” 

He knew that Dean would hate the idea, but it might set Castiel’s mind at ease. Hopefully Dean’s bad mood had burned off a little bit though, or it might make things worse. Sam dug out his own phone and tapped out a quick message to Dean. 

_We need to take care of the car thing. Cas is serious about it. Anything I can do to help?_ 'Don’t be a jerk' should have been tagged onto the end, but he figured that his brother could read between the lines. 

Cas just watched him text Dean, though, and didn't follow suit. He glanced at the door again carefully. 

"...Sam. The car isn't the reason I wanted to talk to you without Dean. If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell him anything about it, though. Please," he added, for emphasis.

 _Knew it,_ Sam thought. 

“Alright. I promise,” he said confidently.

The angel again glanced at the door, just in case Dean showed back up unexpectedly. 

“Sleeping Beauty,” he said abruptly, turning back to Sam. “The fairytale. Did you ever read it?”

That wasn’t what Sam expected and it showed on his face. He rubbed his neck. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m assuming that you mean the original version?” 

The deer in the headlights look told him that Cas had not been expecting that question, either.

"I, uh. I don't know which version it was," he admitted, glancing around the room. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "..."

“It doesn’t really matter. They’re pretty similar. What about Sleeping Beauty?” Sam shifted on the couch to lay back against the arm, putting on a smile. 

Or similar enough. Beautiful woman is put to sleep and a kiss wakes her up…in most versions. Sam tried not to cringe as he thought of the older versions where the prince was a real creep. 

How Sleeping Beauty related to Castiel and Dean arguing over a broken down car was beyond Sam. 

Cas was back to looking glum.

"I-I kissed your brother," he admitted guiltily. "While he was sleeping. He didn't wake up, though. I...don't think he knows."

Sam just stared at him. 

“You…you what? Kissed Dean?” He sputtered, sitting up straight. “Cas! You can’t do that! That’s…creepy!” He said, for lack of a better term. It would be creepy if it was anyone other than Cas. There was no way the angel meant anything creepy by it. Especially after referencing Sleeping Beauty. Sam slapped a hand over his face and groaned. “WHY would you kiss Dean?” 

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have..." It seemed that Cas had expected this kind of reaction, but was guilty enough to admit to it anyway. He looked at the TV sadly.

“But WHY?” Sam repeated, fixing the angel with a very intent stare. “There are easier ways to wake Dean up. Like coffee, or food. Of any variety!” He said, sweeping a hand out in front of him for emphasis. 

"This isn't a fairytale, Sam," the angel replied quietly. "I-I wasn't trying to wake him up. I just wanted to kiss him...just once."

The angel’s reply rendered Sam speechless. What? He stared at Castiel, face caught between confusion and realization. Forcing his jaw to close, Sam sat back against the couch again. 

“You like Dean,” he said slowly. 

Of course he liked Dean. It was painfully obvious as soon as Sam thought of it. How the hell had he not seen it before? 

Cas looked at him, tilting his head. 

"Yes, of course I like Dean. I like you, too, Sam," he assured the brunette. "But I don't want to kiss you." He paused, sighing. "And I don't think that Dean would ever want to kiss me. He is my friend, but that's all. I shouldn't have kissed him, and I don't know what to do now."

“Usually I’d say be honest, but that is a really bad idea,” Sam said glumly, rubbing his forehead. Dean would probably flip out if he found out Cas kissed him. Maybe because it’d hurt his macho reputation or maybe because he thought it was creepy. He’d probably just freak out because he liked Castiel, too. With the way they acted, it wouldn’t be too hard to believe. “I don’t know what to tell you, Cas. Just…wait it out? Do you think he knows?” 

"I don't think so," the angel replied uncertainly. He had that kicked puppy look — like maybe he'd been hoping Sam had a solution. "Maybe you two should just go. Dean doesn't want to stay here, anyway."

It was then that Sam realized maybe Cas wasn't so much attached to the car as he was trying to put space between him and Dean. He was a pretty terrible liar — really, it was a wonder he'd managed to hide this kiss thing at all. Then again, who knew how recently he'd done it.

“We aren’t leaving. Let me think,” Sam said firmly. They had to figure this out. The two options were simple: tell Dean, or don’t tell Dean. Depending on WHAT they told Dean, the situation could turn out very differently. Sam got up from the couch and paced. 

If he could just get the two of them to come out and admit that they liked each (if Dean really did) then the kiss thing wouldn’t be such a big issue. Right? Right. Sam turned back to Cas. 

“Okay.” 

Cas turned sad blue eyes back to him, but only for a moment before he looked down at the floor.

“Is it?”

“No, not that — we can’t tell anyone about that ever,” Sam clarified quickly, taking a seat back on the couch next to the dark haired angel. He put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cas. You have to tell Dean. Tell him that you like him.” 

"Why?" Cas sighed, shaking his head. "We can be friends the way that we are. I won't kiss him again – I shouldn't have done it the first time."

“Well no, but you can’t just ignore your feelings. What if he likes you too?” 

Sam didn’t want to get the angel’s hopes up. He knew his brother pretty well. It really seemed like there was something going on between them. It would be really silly but not unlike his brother to avoid admitting his feelings if he had any. How Dean got through his life being so emotionally-clogged was a mystery. 

"He doesn't," Cas replied glumly, looking at the TV again. "He seems to like me less now than he has in the past. Maybe he does know I kissed him."

Sam's phone buzzed. Dean must have finally gotten the text he sent before.

Car trouble usually didn’t bother Dean too much. That was with Baby, though. 

Weighing if he should ignore it or not, Sam squeezed Castiel’s shoulder before pulling his phone out to check the text. 

_Checking out a wrecking yard next town over,_ the text read. _Cas's off. Kinda worried. Keep an eye on him, okay?_

Castiel glanced at the phone unhappily, then sighed and got up to circle around the back of the couch. He pulled his coat off of the corner and went to wring it out in the kitchen sink.

Cas was acting weird? He couldn’t really argue there. Who knew how long the angel had been trying to hide his Sleeping Beauty secret. 

Sam frowned as he tapped back his reply. 

_You should take him with you. I think he feels useless._

Sam looked after the angel. If Castiel went with Dean, though, that’d leave him alone. Until Crowley decided to crawl out of his Hellhole. 

Castiel was pulling his trench coat back on, even though it was still heavy and damp. He looked pretty defeated.

 _Weather sucks out here,_ Dean replied promptly. _And I think he's pissed at me._

Sam chewed his lip. How could he get this ball rolling? 

_He thinks that you’re pissed at HIM. You guys need to talk._

Standing up again, Sam made his way over to the ‘kitchen’ and leaned against the counter. For some strange reason, he got the feeling that Castiel might try to leave and go mope in the rain. 

The angel was, of all things, looking in the fridge.

"You were going to order food."

Sam's phone buzzed with a reply text. 

_Thinks I don't want to fix his car,_ Dean replied pointedly. _Wouldn't be out here if that was true._

“Uh, yeah,” Sam replied absently, reading Dean’s text and typing a reply. 

_Alright. I’ll watch him. We’re ordering dinner. I’ll save ya leftovers._

_Thanks. I'll talk to him when I get back,_ Dean replied.

Since the motel didn’t have WiFi, Sam did a quick search on his phone for nearby pizza joints. There was one within walking distance. Walking would be a good distraction, but it was raining. 

Cas was already soaked. A chance of getting out of the motel sounded too good to pass up. 

“Hey, there’s a pizza place a couple blocks from here,” he told the angel, looking up at him. “You wanna go?” 

Cas didn't look like he wanted to go anywhere, but he shrugged.

"Okay."


	4. Two Minutes

Throwing on his coat, Sam waved Castiel after him as he left the motel. The storm outside had only grown worse. The wind whipped rain in their faces. 

Sam hesitated to lock the door. But…warm pizza and possibly alcohol awaited. Determined all over again, he clicked the lock shut behind the angel. 

Cas was looking around the very dim landscape worriedly. There were angry gray clouds hanging low overhead, and the rain was pretty cold.

"Did Dean text back?" He asked, turning to Sam with a frown. "Is he going to come back tonight?"

“I’m not sure,” Sam admitted. Dean had said that he’d talk to Cas when he came back, but he hadn’t said WHEN that was. Sam headed down the sidewalk, splashing through a puddle. 

What was he going to do if Dean really did have feelings for Cas? It was going to be pretty awkward to be the third wheel. Would they get two motel rooms? Would he have to give up riding shotgun? 

Trying not to frown too much, Sam looked over at Cas. 

“How long have you…you know. How long have you liked Dean?” 

"Since I pulled him out of Hell," Cas replied matter-of-factly. "I had to put him back together." The sky rumbled loudly overhead, and he wiped his wet hair out of his face. "I didn't want to kiss him then, though. I didn't know about kissing yet."

“Oh.” Sam wasn’t sure how to reply to all of that yet. 

So it had been years. 

He walked along, shivering as the rain sneaked its way down the collar of his jacket. Sam couldn’t even imagine being in love with someone for that long and not slipping up. He wasn’t the best at hiding things for very long, as Dean was well aware of. 

The tall brunette looked over and Cas and smiled sadly. 

“I’m sorry you had to hide it for so long. I wish you had told me.” 

Cas blinked, tilting his head.

"I...I haven't really been hiding it, Sam. Except for the kiss," he added guiltily.

“Oh,” Sam found himself saying again. Cas was relatively new to the whole human emotions thing — maybe he WAS acting like he was in love. 

_Not love,_ Sam quickly thought, shaking his head. That word was a bit too scary to use. 

Again, he found himself wondering how he hadn’t noticed. The blind devotion to Dean should have been a pretty clear clue. Castiel had basically destroyed Heaven because of Dean. Maybe love WAS the right word… 

The pizza place finally came into view, its window glowing like a beacon of greasy hope. 

"I'm sorry to pull you into this, Sam," Cas told him, placing a hand on his shoulder as they both looked ahead at the pizza shop window. "Thank you for listening."

Sam felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

“It’s okay. I feel like a bad friend for not noticing.” He sighed and took the phone out, sheltering it from the rain with one hand. 

'666' was displayed on the screen, and it buzzed again — there was an incoming call.

Cas glanced from the pizza window to him sadly.

"Is that Dean?"

“Ah, no! Uh,” Sam looked between the phone and the pizza place quickly. He could make it if he had to run. He gestured to the restaurant. “It’s, um, someone else. I need to take this. Can I meet you inside?” 

_Way to be suspicious,_ Sam told himself bitterly. 

Cas didn't look convinced, but he nodded and headed off to the pizza place without any protest, dripping rain the whole way.

The phone continued to ring insistently.

Waiting until Cas was actually inside, Sam hit the button to take the call and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” He said quietly. 

"Samantha," a familiar British-accented voice stated from the other side, "Did you just say you would help me earlier to get me to go away?"

The words seemed irate, but he actually sounded kind of tired.

Sam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. If there was a chance they could just have this conversation over the phone, he had to take it. Not seeing the King of Hell was always a good thing. 

“Yep,” the brunette answered shortly. “You wouldn’t tell me what you wanted me to help you with.” 

"I told you, it's more of a show and tell type of thing," Crowley grumbled. "You haven't been alone for ten minutes since our last conversation, though, and this is KIND of time-sensitive, Moose."

Cas, Sam noted, had claimed a small table in the corner of the pizza place and was sitting there dripping water everywhere. The waitress seemed to feel sorry for the guy, and had given him a coffee.

Watching the angel take the coffee, Sam turned away from the pizza joint and sighed. He wiped his hair out of his face with his free hand. The rain wasn’t helping. 

“Then show me. You have two minutes.” 

"Fine. Meet me 'round back by the dumpster," the demon said dryly, and hung up.

“A-are you serious?” Sam sputtered, glaring at the phone. He looked for a way around the pizza place. There was a dumpster in the alley next door. That would have to do. He splashed his way over and leaned to look into the alley. 

He didn’t want to actually go INTO the alley. It wasn’t likely Crowley was going to snatch him up and run, but it still felt risky. 

Crowley had apparently meant that exact dumpster, because the King of Hell was already standing in the alley waiting for him. He was still in his sharp suit from before, and actually — was he pulling off his tie?

"I'm sure you're counting seconds, so come on," he called over, starting to unbutton his shirt next.

Sam stayed where he was and watched him with a raised eyebrow. 

“I'm counting the phone call too, what do you want?” 

"Really?" Crowley rolled his eyes, heading over to stand near Sam. He had his tie hanging untied over his shoulders, and had unbuttoned his jacket and dress shirt. The rain had soaked through every bit of his clothes and hair, and he looked a lot better than he'd sounded on the phone.

The raindrops near his chest seemed to glimmer yellow a bit. Without comment, he pulled the shoulder of his shirt down to reveal a glowing yellow mark on his chest that looked sort of...branded on. It wasn't a familiar symbol.

"Tell me you know what this is."

Still keeping his distance, Sam squinted at it. He glanced at Crowley. 

“Looks familiar,” he lied with a shrug. “How’d that happen?” 

"Long story, not a fun one," Crowley grumbled, pulling his sleeve back up. He squinted at Sam though the rain dripping in his eyes, wiping his hair back out of his face. "I realize I'm not the highest priority on your to-do list, but I need your help. Every moment this thing is on me, I can't get back to Hell, and the...responsible party...is probably wreaking havoc on all of my improvements down there."

A symbol that kept the King of Hell out of Hell? Sam’s interest was piqued, but he didn’t let it show. 

“Alright.” He stepped closer, pulling his phone out of his pocket and waving Crowley over. “Let me take a picture.” 

The demon came over to stand beside him, looking mildly surprised. He probably assumed Sam would tell him off.

"Really? You're not going to try to make a deal of it?" He asked, rolling his sleeve back down. The symbol glowed like a hot iron — kind of internally. It looked painful up close.

“Sure.” Sam snapped a picture. He cautiously took Crowley's arm and looked the symbol over more critically. How did it get under the demon’s skin? The brunette delicately placed a single fingertip on the symbol, bracing himself for pain. 

It felt hot to the touch, but not hot enough to burn. Sam noticed that the rain didn't seem to land on the lines of the symbol, just around them. Crowley watched him almost uneasily. 

"Why would you help me for nothing? Free never means free anymore," he pointed out, glancing down at the symbol.

Sam was distracted by the symbol, only really half listening to the demon. He traced the symbol carefully, taking note of the way it was written. Maybe the something that had caused the symbol was more of a someONE. He looked at Crowley. 

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted from Crowley at that moment, other than maybe to not be bothered by him for awhile. That wouldn’t happen, though. 

“Uh, can we make it an IOU? I need to figure out if I can take it off first.” 

Crowley shrugged, glancing around them at the darkening streets and back into the shadows of the alley.

"That's about all I have to offer, until I can get back into Hell," he admitted. "Think of it like a crossroads deal, only no kisses for your soul trade-off. Get this thing off of me, name your price and I'll go fetch it." He looked up at Sam, adding wearily, "Until then, I'll be sticking close by you."

Sam nodded vaguely, looking the other man over. A favor from the King of Hell could definitely come in handy. Then Crowley’s words sank in. 

“What? Why?” He frowned darkly. “Cas and Dean are…going through something. I can’t have you following me around!” 

Crowley held up his hands, dripping rainwater everywhere. With his shirt all unbuttoned and his hair soaked, he really looked pretty bedraggled.

"I'm not just...locked out," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm not QUITE at King of Hell power levels at the moment, either. Back to the crossroads, more or less. Somebody's bound to try and off me."

“And I care about that why?” Sam said drolly. Crowley had been a persistent pain in their butts for years. Still, he surprised himself when he found that he might miss the demon in some strange way. His eyes narrowed as he glared Crowley down. 

WHY would he miss him? Maybe Crowley had just been around for so long that he was like their rival more than their actual enemy. They hadn’t really tried to kill each other lately… 

Crowley smiled at him, going to button his shirt up again.

"Well, I can't exactly give you your wish later if I'm dead," he pointed out mildly. "Foolish me, for a moment I thought you actually did care."

Sam bit his lip. Why the hell did he care? Shaking his head, he gestured back out of the alley. 

“Fine. Just try not to talk.”


	5. Talking Numbers

Castiel was exactly where Sam had left him — sitting at his little corner table with his mug of coffee, looking downright miserable. The waitress gave Sam and Crowley a dubious look as they stepped inside and promptly dripped rainwater everywhere.

"Good, uh, evening. We might be closin' up shop early tonight," she told them apologetically. "A real big storm's blowin' in."

“Oh. Can we, uh, get a pizza to go? Just a large pepperoni.” Sam said, glancing at Crowley. What was he going to tell Cas? That Crowley just showed up and wants to follow him around? He might believe it if Crowley was just bored. It wasn’t like the man really answered to anyone. 

The waitress gave him a little salute and ducked around the counter to fire up the cash register. 

"Anything to go with that? Drinks, bread sticks?" She asked, utterly oblivious to the fact that the King of Hell was standing there in the doorway.

Crowley was wringing water out of his silk tie and looking done with the situation. He wasn't even making a snarky comment about the bread sticks.

“Do you guys have any coffee left?” Sam asked, leaning on the counter. “Storms always make me want coffee,” he added with what he prayed was a winning smile. 

Everything made him want coffee. Being alive made him want coffee. 

He waved to Cas to come over. 

The angel stepped over — carrying his paper cup of coffee — and regarded Crowley with a suspicious squint.

"..."

The pizza lady rang up the order, talking over the heads of the water-logged demon and angel to address Sam.

"That's $10.80. Since we're shutting down early, coffee's on the house — it'd go to waste, anyway."

“Wow, free coffee?” Sam dug out a twenty and handed it to her. “Just keep the change.” 

Slowly, he turned to Cas and Crowley. He looked back and forth between them. 

“I hope pepperoni’s okay,” he mumbled. 

Cas finally glanced from Crowley to Sam, hugging his coffee close. 

"What is he doing here?"

"Nice to see you again, too," Crowley said drolly, trying to smooth the wet wrinkles out of his suit jacket. He glanced over his shoulder at the door when the wind slapped raindrops against the window.

Was he expecting somebody to attack THAT quick?

“He’s got...problems.” Sam put his hands in his pockets, finally feeling a chill creeping up his back from being soaking wet. He sighed. “I’ll explain later. I guess that storm moving in is the real thing. This place is closing early.” 

"Pizza will be out in about 12 minutes!" The pizza lady poked her head out of the kitchen to inform them. She returned to the kitchen after that. Was she working the place alone?

"Dean should come back, too." Cas was still giving Crowley a suspicious side-eye, but he finally stopped scowling to talk to Sam. "You should call him."

Cas had his own phone. Talking to Dean probably wasn't the best idea right now, though, considering.

Feeling guilty for even ordering a pizza, Sam pulled out his phone and called Dean. With a little nod to Cas, he stepped aside to hopefully gain some privacy while he waited for Dean to pick up. 

After several long rings, he heard Dean's voice.

"Hey, this's Dean's other-other-other phone. Guess I'm not near it right now. Leave me a message. If this's an emergency, call my brother Sam at..." Sam heard his own phone number read back to him.

Sam hung up and circled back to the other two, shoving his phone away. He was started to shiver more. The fact that he had to slog his way back to the motel, now with Crowley in tow, made the entire trip pointless. 

Well. Other than the free coffee. 

“He didn’t pick up. He’s probably under some car in a junkyard.” 

Cas frowned, but only nodded in response.

"I could go pop in and check on him," Crowley offered, glancing between Sam and Cas. He shrugged. "If you want him to know I'm here, that is."

Sam looked at him very seriously. Right. Crowley could teleport around. He doubted that Dean would agree to go anywhere with the demon if he just showed up out of the blue, but maybe he could take Castiel to Dean. 

No. Then it’d just be the two of them. Sam sighed again and rubbed his neck. 

“Let’s just take our pizza and head back to the motel,” he said after a moment. “Dean might be heading back this way anyways.” 

"Well, if you change your mind the offer stands," Crowley purred, smiling at him. He didn't seem bothered by the cold, that was for sure.

The breeze from the storm made it under the door, wafting the roasted pepperoni smell from the kitchen around them all.

Cas mumbled something and headed outside to wait in front of the store. Sam watched him go, none too eager to join him in the rain. He tightened his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Crowley would not see him being pathetic. 

The brunette turned back to the demon but wisely decided to remain silent until the pizza arrived. Twelve minutes felt a long time for an awkward silence. 

He didn’t have anything to say to Crowley. He was still baffled over the revelation that he would miss him if he was ever gone. Sam had come very VERY close to almost killing the smug suit wearing man himself. 

Slowly, he sneaked a glance over at the King of Hell. 

Crowley was looking around the pizzeria with a detached kind of interest, like one looked at graffiti to see what it said. He still seemed tired, and it was weird to have him around this long without saying much.

He finally seemed to notice the gaze on him, turning to look back at Sam with a small smile.

"Feathers is looking worn out these days," he commented, nodding at the door.

“So are you.” Sam lowered his voice to a whisper and moved closer. “Is that symbol doing more than keeping you out of Hell?” 

Crowley was silent for a long moment. So long, in fact, that the waitress returning with a drink tray full of cups of coffee managed to save him from replying with more than a tight smile at Sam.

"You want cream or sugar for the coffees?" The pizza lady asked, still looking apologetic. "We're closin' up as soon as the pizza's out of the oven, so get ready to move."

“No, black is fine. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know it was just you here. Thank you SO much for taking our order,” Sam said sincerely as he took the tray of coffees. He shoved them at Crowley. 

The demon took the tray, smiling brightly at the woman. 

"At least it's not a delivery order, eh?"

"I turned down the last four callers for that," she replied, smiling back. Apparently she found Crowley's accent charming.

Was she serious? Sam looked at Crowley, weighing why the woman would find anything about Crowley charming at that moment. He was soaking wet, his shirt was all messed up and he was more than a little scruffy. 

He did still have on a really nice suit, though...and was clean shaven, which was really unusual for him these days. Maybe she thought he'd been heading to some classy occasion before the rain caught him.

There was a dinging sound from the kitchen, and the woman smiled at the demon again.

"That's your pizza...be right back!" She dashed off to check on it.

Sam felt strangely jealous that he had been outdone by Crowley. He had his doubts that Crowley even liked women, though. The man was just so…sassy. Sam knew how to get back at him, but he was better than that. 

Maybe. 

Crowley watched the woman retreat, then glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, she definitely thinks we're an item."

Sam looked at him dubiously.

“Right.”

The demon was about to say something in reply, but the pizza lady returned with a large pizza box. She offered it to Sam, since Crowley was still holding the coffee tray, and smiled at them.

"There ya go. Careful out there in the weather, fellas."

"Likewise," Crowley told her, and seemed shockingly sincere about it.

“Thanks, you too.” Sam beamed at the woman as nicely as he could, turning and pressing a quick kiss onto Crowley’s cheek. He immediately turned and stepped out into the rain with the pizza before the demon could snark about it. 

There was no way he was going to risk that poor woman getting anywhere near Crowley. If she really did think they were “an item” then hopefully that labeled the demon as uninterested in women.

Sam tried to will his cheeks not to flush as he joined Castiel in the downpour, but he could still feel the warmth off of his face. 

“Ready?” 

Castiel was not in front of the store anymore, though.

Judging by the giggle behind them as they retreated, the pizza lady had indeed assumed they were a couple. Crowley strolled out with the coffee tray like a blushing bride with the bouquet. Maybe he’d said something to her.

Sam was looking around quickly for the angel, slinging water from the tips of his hair. 

“Cas?” 

Where the hell had he gone? 

"He hates me so much he won't share a pizza with me," Crowley concluded, glancing around as well with a raised eyebrow.

The street was very dark by now, and rain slapped them in the face with the gusts of wind.

“He’s probably just on the way back to the hotel. Come on.” Sam started off in the direction of the motel, still keeping an eye out for their angelic companion. 

If he hadn’t been shivering before, he was now. The wind chill didn’t help at all. 

"Sooo..." Crowley hurried to keep pace with him. "What was that about back there?"

He was absolutely drenched again, and also absolutely did not seem to care.

Sam looked at him sidelong, frowning. 

“I’m not going to let you prey on some nice woman.” 

She had given them a tray of free coffee. Not one, but an entire tray! Kissing a horrible man seemed like a small price to pay. 

"The only thing she seemed interested in was watching us," Crowley replied mildly. "And I don't 'prey on' people, Moose. That hurts," he added sourly, looking down at the coffee tray.

“I’m sure you would have crept back there and come up with a million reasons why you should have her soul.” 

Sam balanced the pizza on one arm and wiped the rain from his face. Jeez. One little walk in the rain had turned into a big pain in the ass. 

The wind gusted and nearly knocked Crowley over — he wound up half-falling, half-leaning up against Sam's side, both hands still clutching the coffee tray.

"And WHY would I do that? Why send Hell any souls if I'm locked out without a key?" He demanded, half-muffled by Sam's shoulder. Cautiously, he sat back up, glancing around the street. The few streetlights were flickering a bit.

The tall brunette turned just his head to look down at the demon. Crowley being so close to him was a sudden reminder just how short the man was. 

“Uh, investments or something?” 

Crowley shook his head, hugging the coffee tray to his chest.

"Don't talk numbers with me, Moose. That isn't how souls work. Hell isn't a cheap sign your life away and it's over type of deal — it's long-term, there are deals in-progress at any point. And if I made any deals up here, since there's nobody from Hell to send the requests to, I'd have to personally go do whatever they wished for."

So, if Sam asked for whatever it cost to get rid of the symbol BEFORE he removed it, Crowley — the King of Hell himself — would have to go do it. 

“Really. Huh.” Sam smirked at him and hugged the pizza closer. 

"Suffice it to say I'm not going to be making any deals for souls while I'm stranded here with you," Crowley sighed, looking tired again. "I know assuming the worst is your default for me, but..." He shrugged, trudging on ahead as the motel came into sight.

“But what? You're the KING OF HELL,” Sam said loudly, speeding up to match Crowley’s pace. He grabbed the demon’s arm to stop him. “You’ve killed people I know. You’ve tried to kill me AND you’ve tried to kill Dean. Then you come out of the blue, begging me for me help. I’m not even sure WHY I’m helping you!” 

"I'm not sure, either," Crowley said frankly, looking up at him. The light of the motel rooms was reflecting golden on his wet hair and face.

"...But don't act like you haven't tried to kill me, too. And who do you think Dean recruited to torture Gadreel out of your thick skull? I even hopped into your head to call you out personally. Don't cherry pick the bad times, Moose, nobody left alive is flawless."

Sam let go of his arm, turning away and heading toward the motel again. 

“If you want that symbol off of you, it’s gonna cost you.”


	6. Not Well

There was only the wind howling and rain splattering as Sam headed into the motel — no footsteps but his own. Crowley was standing by the sink when he opened the door, though, peeling off his wet jacket and wringing it out.

Sitting the pizza down, Sam followed suit and quickly peeled off his wet jacket and shirt. Hopefully he’d remembered to pack a rain slicker.

He scanned the room for Castiel.

“Cas?” 

"Not here," Crowley informed him, pulling off his tie. His black dress shirt was plastered down from the rain, and the yellow symbol glowed right through it. "I bet he's off to check on the Squirrel. You could always be low-tech about it and call him."

“So we’re alone. That’s convenient.” Sam turned to glare the demon down. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Cas. 

As loud as the storm was, he fully expected the phone to go to voicemail. So when Castiel's voice came from the other end of the line, it caught him by surprise.

"Sam," the angel said, by way of greeting. "Is Crowley still there?"

“Yes, he is.” Sam dropped his voice to a whisper. “Why did you leave me alone with him? Where are you? Everything alright?” 

"I needed to talk to you without him hearing," Cas said, sounding grim. "And you just came back from being alone with him. Why is he here?"

Sam looked back at Crowley and decided to duck into the bathroom for some privacy. He closed the door and leaned against it. 

“I’m h-helping him with something. It’s not important. What did you need to talk to me about?” 

Sam had figured the conversation on Castiel’s feelings for Dean had ended when he failed to come up with a solution. 

"You know that I can see a demon's true face," Cas said grimly. "Crowley...doesn't look like Crowley."

“What?” Sam shivered, hugging his free arm around his stomach. “Who does he look like?” He said, lowering his voice even more. 

Maybe that was why Crowley was acting so weird. It wasn’t him! 

"It would be impossible to describe his true face," Cas sighed, "But if that is Crowley, something's terribly wrong with him. I thought it was someone else."

“Cas, is it him or not!” Sam hissed, still shivering. Noticing the fluffy white towel hanging by the door, he frowned. As much as he wanted to change out of the wet clothes, getting rid of fake Crowley was more important than being cold. 

"I'll take a closer look at him again," the angel replied, and hung up. A moment later, Sam heard the motel door open and close.

Had Cas been that close by?

His phone buzzed.

Sam turned to press an ear to the door to listen in.

"Got lost?" Crowley was asking dryly.

There was a moment of silence, and Sam could just imagine Cas's suspicious squinting look.

"What's wrong with you? You look terrible."

"You don't look so hot yourself. How's that stolen grace working out for you?" The demon purred. Sam could swear he heard the pizza box being opened.

"That mark — what is it? You're pale just like it," Cas shot back, sounding annoyed. "I hardly recognized you."

Crowley offered no response to that.

"Crowley," the angel pressed, further annoyed. "What does Sam have to do with this?"

Deciding that he’d heard enough, Sam scrambled to undress and tie the towel around his waist before pushing the bathroom door open. He put on a surprised face. 

“You almost missed dinner.” He headed calmly across the room and rummaged in his backpack for some clothes. 

Crowley had in fact opened the pizza box, and was standing around leaned against the kitchen counter with a slice in hand.

Castiel was dripping rain water all over the floor near the door, and looking none too pleased with the conversation they'd just been having. Sam noted that he was still holding the little paper coffee cup he'd left the pizza shop with.

"I went for a walk," he said flatly.

Sam managed to pull on his pajama pants and a white t-shirt without losing the towel. For some reason, changing in front of Crowley felt weird. 

“It’s a good thing you don’t get sick, then.” He turned back to them and made a beeline for the pizza. It looked amazing. Crispy pepperoni and toasted cheese. Sam felt a little moose-like as he shoved half of a piece into his mouth. How long had it been since he’d eaten? 

With a sigh of delight, he snagged a coffee from the tray to wash it down. 

The angel shot Crowley a pointed look, and the demon sighed.

"FINE. Moose...Sam. I'm not well. You already knew that, but Feathers here thinks I'm trying to play you." He shot Cas a pointed look right back. "I'm sure he was completely honest with you about how he's DYING and all, it's only fair."

Sipping his coffee, Sam frowned. 

“I know Cas isn’t feeling well. He told me that.” He looked over at Crowley. “But I asked you if that symbol was hurting you and you denied it. I thought you were always honest.” 

He grabbed another slice of pizza and retreated to his bed. The covers were cheap, but cozy. The moment he was nestled under them, Sam felt like yawning. Fighting the feeling, he instead took another sip from his coffee. 

"Actually, I avoided answering you. Not the same," Crowley called over. He seemed a bit irked Cas actually had been honest with Sam and Dean about his condition. Was he jealous they were that close?

Cas took off his jacket and wrung it out in the sink, hanging it on the corner of the couch. He paused by Dean's jacket, which he'd left hanging there earlier in the day, and sighed.

Sam's phone buzzed. Right, it had also buzzed earlier and he’d gotten distracted out of checking it… Sam leaned to grab the phone from the end of the bed, checking who the text was from.

It was Dean. In fact, there were two new messages now.

_Weather turned ugly,_ the first read. _Radio says stay indoors._

The second added, _Think I'm staying out tonight._

 _Great. Just great._ After settling into the bed in his PJs, it occurred to Sam that he didn’t have time to sleep. Crowley said the symbol was a time sensitive thing. If it really was killing him, they had to hit the books soon. Sam frowned while he typed his reply. 

_Okay, I’m going to leave Cas here at the motel. Text him and check on him okay? I have to go out too._

_Stay put Sammy,_ came the prompt reply. _I'm in a garage with Baby. Where you going anyway?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Crowley and Cas had sat down at the motel's tiny two-person table. The demon and angel actually weren't snarking at each other - Cas was sipping coffee and looking distant, and Crowley was poking at the yellow symbol glowing through the chest of his wet shirt.

"...This place seems too cheap for robes, but I have to ask," he ventured, glancing first at Sam, then at the bathroom.

Sam glanced at the other two occupants of the room and typed back, ignoring Crowley. 

_Research. This place doesn’t have WiFi._

_Research what? No case, just here for Cas's car,_ Dean pointed out.

Getting no response, Crowley got up and headed into the bathroom.

Sam knew that if he told Dean that Crowley was hanging around, his brother would probably drive out into the storm. 

He rubbed his forehead. 

_Okay. It can wait. See ya tomorrow._

Sam dropped the phone and slung the covers back. 

“Hey,” he called after Crowley. “Can you take me to the library? I need to grab a few books.” 

The library was probably closed at that moment. He’d have to drop whatever books he ‘borrowed’ back off in the morning. 

Crowley poked his head out of the bathroom, the yellow mark glowing brightly on his chest. He had taken off his wet clothes and was wearing only a towel.

"Now? Your pizza will get cold," he said mildly.

Castiel, meanwhile, looked glum again. Probably because Crowley could still teleport around, but he couldn't fly anymore.

“We’ll come right back,” Sam said, eyeing the symbol. It looked hand written. Hopefully it really was written by a person. It was easier to track down spells than most things. 

Teleporting was really nice. Sam wouldn’t even have to change out of his pajamas. 

Crowley shrugged and headed over to the bed in his towel. 

"Whatever you want, I'm flexible." He reached over and stuck a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Cas's phone buzzed, and he was just fishing it out of his pocket to check it as the world blinked out — and back in. 

They were surrounded by shelves, darkness, and that lovely old book smell that said "library."

Sam froze, carefully putting a hand on Crowley’s.

“Uh, Crowley?”

"Who else?" The demon asked, keeping his voice low. Was he whispering because they were in a library? That seemed so...not demonic of him. The yellow symbol glowed softly in the dark, flickering like something on fire. It cast a glow on the shelves and on Crowley's face.

“I don’t have my phone — or a flashlight,” Sam whispered in reply. He looked around them at the eerily glowing shelves full of books. It felt strangely romantic. If the company was different. Sam turned back to Crowley and looked at the symbol. It was actually kind of pretty. 

"I'll fetch them," the demon murmured, still speaking quietly. His voice really did sound like a purr when he was speaking softly. He slipped his hand out from under Sam's, stepping back. "Want anything else?"

“Wait! Don’t leave.” Sam grabbed Crowley’s wrist. It would SO be like Crowley to dump him there. If he was just playing at being sick, it would be a really easy way to get Sam out of the way. “Please,” he added softly. “I-I’ll find them by hand. I know where the section is.” 

Bemused, Crowley shrugged and gestured toward the shelves ahead of them.

"Lead the way, then."


	7. Storm Watch

Keeping his grip on the demon, Sam made his way carefully to the history section. Despite the town being small, the library was rather large. 

Sam managed to pull two large books down and tuck them clumsily under his arm without letting go of Crowley. He couldn’t manage to get any more with only one hand. 

"Need me to carry your books for you?" Crowley asked mildly, watching this. He seemed bemused that Sam was keeping a hold of his wrist this whole time.

“I got it. We can go.” Sam turned back to him, taking in the glow from the symbol all over again. It actually made Crowley a little less scary to be bathed in soft yellow light. 

Crowley looked at him for a long moment. 

"...Can you really do it? You wouldn't waste your time if you couldn't, right?"

Sam looked directly back at him. The demon looked so tired. So worn thin. There were so few people left that Sam knew. So many of them had died already. He had eventually admitted to himself that he didn’t want to see Crowley die, but he couldn’t tell the demon that. 

Letting go of the other man’s wrist, Sam slid his hand down to take Crowley’s. Then he looked into the demon’s eyes. 

“I’m going to try. You still owe me, remember?” 

Crowley squeezed his hand, seeming a bit surprised at the gesture.

"Right, right. It's going to cost me," he reminded Sam of his own words from before somewhat drolly. "Just wait until I'm back to full power, or I can't grant quite the level of wish I'm expecting from you."

With a nod, Sam readjusted the books under his arm. 

“Let’s go. The pizza’s getting cold.”

Crowley looked like he wanted to add something, but only glanced around the darkened library one more time before the world flickered, and abruptly they were back in the motel room.

Cas was sitting at the tiny kitchen table still, looking at his phone.

Sam immediately retreated to the safety of his bed again, balancing his laptop of one of the books and opening the other to start reading. He wasn’t even sure if they were useful, but it was better than having an awkward conversation with the now shirtless Crowley or the angsty angel. 

A buzzing sound reminded him that he'd dropped his phone on the bed earlier.

Crowley stepped over and took a seat on the other bed, looking around the dingy little motel room. Yep, that was definitely a cringe at the pineapple wallpaper this time around.

The demon was behaving surprisingly well. It was unnerving. Sam snagged the phone and checked it. 

There were several texts from Dean. 

_Cas okay?_

Followed by, _Cas not answering his phone, he with you?_

And finally, _Hello?_

Cringing, Sam typed a quick reply back. 

_Sorry. Was busy. Yeah, he’s here with me. He’s okay. Just mopey._

Crowley was still sitting there quietly on the side of the bed, watching Sam text. He said nothing, and looked kind of tired.

"Is that Dean?" Cas stepped over near the couch, noticing Sam's texting as well.

 _He lose his phone?_ Dean texted back insistently, too. _Tried calling him._

“Yeah, he’s been trying to call you. Do you have your phone?” Sam looked up at the dark haired man with a frown. 

The angel looked at the phone, which was in fact still in his hand. 

"He hasn't called me, Sam. I sent him some texts, but he didn't respond."

Crowley headed off to the table like it was too crowded over there.

Sam typed out a reply to his brother. He had to wonder if the angel was lying. Cas was so convinced that Dean was mad at him that maybe he hadn’t even looked at his phone’s messages. 

A moment later, his phone started buzzing. Incoming call — Dean.

Cas frowned at it and then at his own phone.

"Why does yours still work?"

Sam held the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, his phone isn’t working. I guess.” He looked at the angel. “Do you want me to hand him the phone?” 

"If he feels like talking to me, sure," Dean grumbled. Clearly he thought Cas had been ignoring him. "Actually, you know what, let me give you an update first."

Castiel watched his expression carefully, trying to discern what Dean might be saying.

“Alright,” Sam said casually, opening up NoteSlab on his computer. He carefully kept his face neutral. Cas was worried enough. They couldn’t stay like that. If they didn’t talk it out soon, Sam would be forced to play cupid. Checking on where Crowley was, he cleared his throat. “Shoot.” 

"Okay. Got most of the car parts we need from a couple wrecking yards," Dean began, listing off what parts he'd found so far. Some of them were pretty big ones — rebuilding Cas's car would probably take a few days even if the weather wasn't horrid.

"That's the good news. Bad news is, there's a storm watch warning on the radio and I'm kinda holed up in a barn with Baby, waiting it out."

“A-a barn? Do you want me to come and get you? I could bring Cas,” Sam added thoughtfully. “He might be able to help.” 

"A barn?" Crowley spoke up for the first time in awhile, reminding Sam he was there. He looked over from the table, where he'd sat down and was leaned with his chin braced on one hand. "I could take you there if you want."

"I drove out a long way," Dean was saying, sounding dubious. "Don't walk around out in this. I'm fine, Baby's safe, it's all good."

“I wouldn’t be walking. Uh.” Sam looked at the King of Hell and sighed. “Crowley’s here. We could just teleport out to you.” 

"Crowley?" He could hear the scowl in Dean's voice. "What's he doing here, scaring away the sun?"

Cas concluded that Dean wanted to talk to Sam and sat down on the couch rather than hover nearby.

“I’m helping him with something.” Sam sighed and thumbed through a few pages of the book. “I don’t think he’s gonna cause any trouble right now. I don’t think he CAN.” The brunette looked at Crowley quizzically. 

The demon raised his eyebrows like it might be a challenge, but didn't comment. He did get up from the table and go retrieve his wet clothes from the bathroom, wrinkling his nose at them.

"I suppose all of your spare clothes are Moose-sized..."

"Right. Did he tell you that?" Dean grumbled. "Whatever. You can come visit if you want, but I'm not leaving Baby here, and I don't think Crowley can teleport a whole car."

Sam chuckled. 

“Probably not. See you soon.” He ended the call and reluctantly crawled back out of the warm soft bed. Sam summoned all of his effort to sling on his soaking wet jacket and gather a cup of coffee and two slices of pizza for his stranded brother. 

He turned to Cas and put on a smile. 

“Here, you give these to Dean.” He offered the goodies to the angel. “Dean can’t be mad at someone handing him pizza and coffee.” 

Cas stood from the couch and accepted the offerings, sighing.

"Is he out in the weather? We should bring him a blanket."

Crowley had put his dress shirt, suit jacket and tie back on neatly, even though they were still wet and somewhat wrinkled. The yellow glowing mark was hidden again under the layers.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea.” Sam went over and yanked a blanket off of Dean’s bed and slung it over Cas’s shoulder. He waved Crowley over, remembering to shove his phone into his jacket pocket this time. “Alright.” 

Crowley strolled over and slung an arm over Castiel's shoulder (which didn't look very appreciated), the other over Sam's.

"Cozy," he commented, right before the room began to flicker.

The next thing they knew, they were standing in a dark drafty open space, and the sound of Led Zeppelin mixed with the howling wind outside came across somewhat haunting.

The Impala's driver side door stood open, and light spilled out from the interior of the car. They were indeed in a barn — an actual barn, with hay stacked against several walls, big barred doors, and straw on the floor.

Sam slipped out from under Crowley’s arm and knocked lightly on the window behind the driver’s seat in case his brother hadn’t noticed them. 

“Hey.” 

Dean switched the music off, and abruptly the wind sounded a lot worse outside. Climbing out of his seat, Sam's brother glanced over at Crowley with a frown.

"Hey, you brought a whole crowd."

"You're welcome," Crowley replied drolly, fidgeting with the cuffs of his dress shirt. They still had some wrinkles in them.

Sam stuck his hands into his pockets. He cringing as they squelched with the motion. He glanced down at them and then back to Dean, trying not to shiver. 

“Baby should be okay here. If you want to sleep in a bed tonight.” He shrugged. Maybe Cas could stay behind and… No. He still didn’t want to be alone with Crowley. The man was acting weird. 

Dean was about to reply when he glanced and saw that Cas had brought food and a blanket. 

Blinking, he asked, "What happened to your coat, Cas?"

"It's in the motel," the angel said, looking at him like he was measuring Dean's mood. Cautiously, he added, "We got rained on. I think my phone is broken."

“We’re all having a little trouble with the weather,” Sam said with a shrug. “We brought you coffee.” He gestured to Cas pointedly, trying very hard to give the angel a cue to actually do something. 

Glancing at him, Castiel turned and offered Dean the coffee cup and pizza. When Dean took them, the angel also put the blanket over his shoulders.

"Uh...wow, thanks." Dean looked bemused, probably because he seemed to think Cas was pissed at him for some reason. "I don't know about leaving Baby here. We're miles from the motel."

"It's cold here," Cas said with a frown. "And your clothes are wet, too." Dean's clothes did look wet, now that Sam noticed it. The flannel shirt he'd put on earlier instead of his jacket was damp.

Dean lowered his voice, nodding over at Crowley (who appeared to be poking at the barn doors or something.)

"I don't wanna rely on HIM to get me back here."

Sam looked after the demon, frowning. He had had the same feeling when Crowley took him to the library. That symbol sure as hell better be real.


	8. Taking Off

Sam moved close to his brother, dropping his voice to a whisper. 

“Crowley sort of needs me right now. He’s not going to just dump us somewhere. Well, not me, anyway.” 

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" Dean whispered back, gesturing to the demon across the room. "WHY does he need you?"

"He's ill," Cas said flatly, looking over at Crowley. He frowned. "...He's hardly recognizable. It's bad, Dean."

Dean looked at him, not sure what to say to that.

“I need to figure it out soon.” Sam leaned against Baby, shaking under his jacket. “I have some books back at the motel, but I really need my laptop online. As long as the storm doesn’t knock out the power, we’ll be okay — but I seriously doubt this barn has WiFi.” He glanced around, listening to the wind threatening to rip the roof off. 

Dean glanced over at Crowley again for a long moment, frowning.

"...Just a minute," he sighed, going around to open the trunk.

The tall brunette looked at Crowley too. It had already been what, two days since Crowley asked for his help? No wonder he was keeping the sass on stun. Sam left Dean to dig in the trunk and joined the demon, scanning over the stacks of hay.

“…How ARE you doing? Is that symbol hurting you?” He squinted down at Crowley as he spoke. The man looked exhausted, though he still managed to seem like he belonged in a fancy bar. 

Crowley, it appeared, was looking at some warding sigils Dean had drawn on the inside of the barn door. He looked kind of distant.

"Not in the good way," he said finally, crossing his arms. Glancing up at Sam, he smiled suddenly, adding, "You must have some great wish in mind — you actually look concerned, there, Moose."

Of course he didn’t have a wish in mind yet. He was more worried about not being kidnapped or letting his would-be kidnapper die. Sam shrugged a shoulder in reply, hugging himself. The barn was damn drafty. His mind drifted back to that warm cheap motel bed. The Impala wasn’t nearly as comfortable to sleep in. It gave him leg cramps if he slept at the wrong angle. 

Getting only the shrug in reply seemed to bother Crowley. 

"I'd say my time is just up, but there's an impostor on my throne," he said, watching the barn doors wobble in the wind. "Sad to say, but I don't know of anybody else I can trust to help me. Albeit, with ulterior motives."

Sam couldn’t help the sad look that washed over his face. So. Crowley really was dying. He looked away, kicking himself for being caught off guard. 

“Uh, yep.” 

Sam grimaced. Right. Because ‘yep’ made perfect sense in reply to a ‘I’m dying and you’re my only friend’ speech. 

"I'm sure there are plenty of people up here who would celebrate if you didn't help me out," Crowley added, looking at him curiously. So he'd caught the sad look. Great. "...Trust me, though, Hell needs adult supervision. Hope somebody remembers to feed the Hellhounds," he added thoughtfully.

“…I’d offer, but they’re invisible,” Sam said softly, looking over the drafty barn all over again. 

Dean, he noted, had marked up the ground around Baby and was adding a salt circle around her. Castiel stood nearby watching this silently, looking smaller without his trench coat.

"They might eat you," Crowley pointed out, smirking. He glanced at the others and placed a hand on Sam's arm, leaning in to whisper to him. "Be honest with me, do you have any idea how to fix this?"

Slowly, Sam turned his face to look at Crowley directly, nose to nose despite the height difference. 

“You’ve already asked me that,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. What were they doing wasting time in a barn? Crowley could teleport anywhere. All Sam had to do was ask. 

"Maybe I didn't believe your answer the first time," the demon replied dryly, glancing over at Dean and Cas. He went back to whispering. "Maybe we should take off."

“Can you take me anywhere or do you have a range or something?” Sam glanced too, then back at Crowley. He kept up the whispering, knowing damn well that Dean would make assumptions. “I need WiFi.” 

"Anywhere on earth, but it sounds like Starbucks would do." Crowley shrugged, adjusting his tie. "Would strand the lovebirds, of course...but they have a blanket."

“I need to grab my laptop from the motel first.” Sam circled back around the car to where Dean was. “Hey. Crowley’s taking me to WiFi. We’ll be back. If you, you know, don’t want to come along.” 

"I thought the motel didn't have WiFi," Dean said suspiciously, shoving his warding paint and leftover box of salt back into the backpack he'd pulled them out of. He stood, glancing at Cas. The angel was standing quietly nearby, watching them.

Crowley snagged Cas's tie with one hand, the edge of Dean's flannel shirt with the other, and looked at Sam expectantly. 

"If we're done here, grab hold and let's move."

Hesitant only for a second, Sam reached and place a hand on Crowley’s chest — right over the symbol. 

The spot felt hot even through his jacket. The world flickered dark, and abruptly the air got warmer. They were standing in the motel room...but the lights were out.

The smell of pizza drifted vaguely to them from the direction of the kitchen table. Outside, the wind was wailing. The glass in the windows rattled a bit.

Cas went to the couch to retrieve his trench coat and put it back on, apparently unbothered by the darkness in the room.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, Sam aimed it around to find his laptop. He snagged it off of the bed and returned to press a hand to Crowley. 

“Okay, so anywhere with WiFi AND power.” 

Crowley happily grabbed Sam's hand and teleported them away before Dean could offer any comment. They appeared somewhere else in the dark. The air still felt warm.

Sam blinked, trying to decide if his eyes were open or not. They were. 

“Where are we?” He whispered, keeping a hand on the demon. 

"Not Starbucks, I've got a little class," Crowley replied. Sam felt him lean to the side, and a moment later he had flicked the light switch. They were in a cozy-looking little coffee shop with overstuffed chairs and couches, a coffee table, and a nice little coffee bar along the counter. The chairs were all up on the tables, and everything was spotless.

There was, he noted, absolutely no sign of the howling windy weather out the large glass window to the shop. There was a peaceful starry sky out there.

Sam pulled his hand out of Crowley’s and shyly went to settle into one of the plump couches. He peeled off his wet jacket and laid it aside as the computer booted up. 

“Okay.” He punched in the WiFi password off of the menu. “Finally!” 

Crowley strolled behind the coffee counter and opened the fridge, rummaging through the various milk cartons in there.

"So...what's the deal with Cas? He's all mopey, like a wet kitten."

Sam joined Crowley at the bar. He sat the laptop down and opened up four different tabs to search in. 

'It’s a Dean thing,' he mouthed to Crowley, nodding at his brother. 

Or…where he thought his brother would be. He looked around and it finally dawned on him that it was just the two of them. Slowly, he glanced back at Crowley. 

“Uh…” He pointed to the empty coffee shop. “I think we forgot something.” 

The demon turned and placed a couple of coffee mugs on the counter in front of him, pouring milk into them.

"You're right — we need snacks. I'm sure they've got a snack shelf around here somewhere..."

Sam sat his hands on his keyboard, frowning. Hopefully Dean didn’t call and scream at them. It wasn’t like he had PLANNED to go off to some slightly romantic, starry night sky coffee bar with the King of Hell. 

The brunette looked around again. It was a pretty fancy place. The fresh memory of the dingy motel really put that into perspective. 

Right, research. He pulled up a search on keeping people out of hell (not much help, mostly just angry Christian bloggers), demonic symbols, keeping demons out of hell and warding spells. 

Sam scrolled silently, trying not to look at Crowley again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Crowley was not drinking the milk he'd poured — no, he was casually working the espresso machines behind the counter like he could make a latte in his sleep, steaming the milk and tamping coffee grounds and humming. The song sounded like some Scottish jig.

"Two shots or three?" He asked over his shoulder without glancing back.

He didn’t seem to notice Sam gawking at him with wide eyes. 

“Uh…three?” He managed, looking at Crowley like he was a ghost instead of a demon. “You can make coffee?” 

"I can make a lot of things," the King of Hell said mildly, glancing back at him. He shrugged. "I've been around awhile, Sam."

He'd actually used Sam's name instead of 'Moose' or 'Samantha' or something. It seemed strangely serious of him.

Sam dropped his gaze back to his computer, not even seeing what was on screen. He had to find something. Anything. He looked back at Crowley, eyebrows pinching despite his best effort. 

“Are you r-really dying?” 

"Unless you fix me..." The demon frothed the steamed milk with the machine, pouring it over the coffee and then turning to place it on the counter for him. "...Then yes. This meatsuit doesn't look any different, I know, but you heard how Feathers says I look right now. Anybody who can really see me can tell."

He paused, like he was about to add something, then thought better of it and turned back to the espresso machine.

Sam stared at his back and then down at the screen full of random symbols. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, sliding a hand over to take the latte. 

Neither of them said anything for awhile after that. Crowley made himself a latte with butterscotch syrup and a big pile of whipped cream and sprinkles, then sat on the opposite end of Sam's overstuffed couch and curled up there sipping it.

Sam managed to lose himself in his work long enough that his coffee ran low. It was really good. Crowley must have actually spent time as a barista. Sam knew it wasn’t true, but it still made him smile to imagine Crowley in a green little apron pouring leaf shapes into people’s latte foam. 

The demon was so quiet. Sam had to wonder what exactly his real self looked like. How foreign were demons and angels, anyway? They still had faces, right? Was Crowley actually a thousand feet tall, like Cas claimed to be?

It was hard to comprehend the fact that he'd spent time in Hell and still didn't know what a demon actually looked like.

Sam’s eyes were crossing anyway. It was time for a break. He shut the laptop and slid it aside, sinking back into the couch. God, he was tired. He laid back and stretched, trying to get the crink out of his neck. 

Was Crowley asleep? Lucky bastard. 

Sam rolled his head to look at the demon. 

He definitely looked asleep. He was breathing slowly and evenly, knees pulled up close to him on the couch, and was still hugging the coffee mug to his chest.

Sam blinked. He actually was sleeping. Cas only ever did that when he was really messed up. For some reason, Castiel’s story of ‘Sleeping Dean’ came to mind. The idea of Cas kissing Dean didn’t really bother him. 

The Winchester frowned and sipped his coffee. The big window in front of them had the tiniest bit of lightness to it. Sunrise wasn’t too far off. 

What if it was the last one Crowley got to see?


	9. Say When

Half dropping his coffee on the table in front of them, Sam turned to shake the demon's shoulder. 

“Hey, hey. Wake up!”

Crowley actually flinched at that, dropping his coffee mug and sitting up to look around them quickly.

"What, what? Where are they?" He blinked at the peaceful pre-dawn sky outside, falling silent.

“Uh, no, we’re alone.” Sam said quickly, sitting back at little. What the hell was he doing? Crowley probably couldn’t care less about seeing his last sunrise. Sam rubbed his neck. “I, um…” 

Crowley glanced at him, then went back to looking out the window. 

"Well. As long as nobody's trying to kill us, might as well enjoy the view." He braced an elbow on the arm of the couch, resting his chin on his hand, and added idly, "There are no sunrises in Hell, you know. The angels get all of the bells and whistles and paradise blah blah blah. Hell's not so bad, but it needs some skylights."

Sam kept quiet. He didn’t want to explain himself and the demon seemed to catch on to why he was so rudely awakened — so why ruin it? 

Relieved, Sam sank back into the couch beside him. The sky was light enough to make out the silhouettes of buildings. It was actually really pretty. He never really took time to watch them either. He was too busy fighting evil things like the man sitting beside him. He peeked at Crowley. 

‘Evil’ felt like a bit of a stretch at the moment. 

The clouds were turning pink outside, and they bathed the demon in a warm light that made his hazel eyes shine. Nobody with big shiny eyes like that, watching a pink sunrise, could really manage to look that intimidating. It was very hard to imagine this was the same person who ruled Hell — literal Hell — and was known for his creative torture techniques.

Crowley noticed his staring after awhile, and glanced at him sidelong.

"Probably never going to see Hell again," he realized aloud, bemused. "...Except for Juliet, I'm not that broken up."

Sam swallowed, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anything.” He reached out and put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, staring out at the pink fluffy clouds. 

It was a good thing. One less demon in the world. They had planned on offing Crowley at some point in the future anyways. It saved them some work.

But Sam couldn’t convince himself to be happy about it. No amount of evil deeds or smug smirking could make him hate the man next to him. Hell, he’d done horrible things, too. So had Dean. And Castiel. What the hell made them better than Crowley?

He scooted a little closer, putting his arm around Crowley’s shoulders and giving him a half hug. 

“Just tell me where she lives and I’ll bring her food.” He stared down at the demon sadly, looking into his eyes for once. “Does she like turkey burgers?” 

Crowley seemed almost startled to be hugged.

He looked up at Sam like maybe he was up to something, replying distractedly, "She, er...she likes candy. Pillow mints. I know it's not very fearsome, but she's only after people when she's working."

Sam nodded, also distracted. He felt so stupid. Turkey burgers? Where the hell did that come from? 

Crowley got to see the sunrise. Mission accomplished. Sam had to stop talking and start typing again if there was still a chance he could save the demon.

“I should get back to work,” he mumbled at long last. 

"It's not a hopeless cause, then?" Crowley didn't seem in any hurry to move. In fact, he leaned his head on Sam's shoulder a little, looking back out the window. How often did demons get hugs, anyway? Even the other demons were usually so petrified of Crowley’s temper that they were afraid to look at him wrong.

"Whoever’s done this probably did it to take over Hell," the demon added.

“Jeez, what’s so great about Hell?” Sam said in annoyance. “I can’t find anything online or in a library. I need something else. Maybe there’s something in the bunker.” The brunette frowned, mentally going over the wall of books at home. 

“Where else would a demon want to rule than Hell?” Crowley asked, not moving from leaning against him. “Earth?”

“Uh yeah, a couple of you have tried,” Sam said tiredly. “Look,” he put his free hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I can’t cure you from here. Are you feeling up to teleporting me to the bunker? I’m pretty sure the Men of Letters have a book about keeping demons out of Hell.” 

"As long as I don't land in a devil's trap, I don't see why not." Crowley sat up finally, glancing down at the coffee mug he'd dropped on the floor. He took one last look at the pink sunrise outside and then placed his hand over Sam's on his shoulder, and the world flickered dark.

They were in the big main room of the bunker, which was just as Sam and Dean had left it when they set out on this little road trip. It seemed very quiet in there.

Sam blinked and looked around, arm still slung over the demon’s shoulders. He glanced down at Crowley, eyebrows lowering. Apparently the bunker wasn’t as demon-proof as they thought.

“Okay. I’ll pretend that didn’t happen. Right. The cure.” He pushed off of the demon and started downstairs.

Crowley swayed a bit before getting his balance back, hurrying after him.

"Don't ask me to take you places you don't want to go," he said mildly, glancing around the bunker as he went. Crowley hadn't spent a whole lot of time there. Other than the dungeon, of course.

“Stop talking and sit down. This could take me awhile,” the Winchester said over his shoulder. 

Sam went over the first row of bookshelves slowly, trailing his fingertip along the dusty book spines. His mind was still focused on his demonic guest. 

Was there a cure? Maybe Crowley knew it was permanent and was just trying to bait Sam for some last hurrah. He hadn’t exactly seemed bothered by sitting around and watching the sunrise together. If those were truly his last moments, Sam figured the man would want to get drunk or high — or at least make some joke about Sam being gay. 

Sam frowned sadly at the books.

"If I sit down, I'll fall asleep," Crowley replied, sounding more annoyed about it than anything. He turned to the nearest bookshelf and started poking at the books, scanning the leather bound spines and embossed titles.

"...What if this mark's just burnt onto my body? Maybe I just need to body hop," he mused. "PROBABLY won't let me, I'm sure they thought of that..."

Sam glanced his way. Was he serious? He scowled at the demon. 

“You didn’t TRY that?” He snapped, throwing his hands up. “W-why not?!” 

"I'm rather attached to this one," Crowley admitted, gesturing down to himself. "I was hoping you could save him."

“I’ll try to save him, but right now I’m more worried about YOU.”

Sam froze as soon as the words left his mouth. Damn. He just put saving a demon’s life over a human’s. He slapped a hand over his face and shook his head. “He’s — I mean… You’re the one who’s dying.” 

Reading him easily, Crowley reached over and patted his shoulder, smirking. 

"Any human soul in here's long dead, Moose. I've been shot and stabbed a time or two, hopped out, hopped back in. I'm sure he's in literary agent Heaven right now," he assured Sam.

He seemed amused that Sam was verbally tripping himself up, but not all that surprised that the man cared if he died.

Right. Meatsuit. Sam brushed the demon’s hand away, blushing at his stupidity. 

“Okay. How do we do this? Find you a host? I think there’s a bum by the gas station.” 

Crowley looked at him thoughtfully.

"There's a Moose right here..."

Now was the absolute worst time for Sam to remember his anti possession tattoo had been burnt off by Cas during the whole Gadreel situation.

Putting a hand over where the tattoo had been, Sam took a step back. Crowley had waited until they were alone in the bunker, of all places. Where he could easily dodge both Dean and Cas if they tried to stop him. If they ever even found out. Cas would know…right?

“…Was this your plan?” The tall brunette asked, frown softening a little. “You’re not really dying, are you?” 

"Even if I was lying, why would Cas?" Crowley held up his hands, shrugging. "Better question, Moose, if I have some diabolical scheme up my sleeve then why would I bother asking your permission? Did you mistake me for an angel somehow...?"

Sam eyed him, squinting. That made sense. Sort of. 

“Why ARE you asking me? You didn’t need to last time.” The brunette added the last bitterly. It had been to save his life, but still. He really didn’t want the demon in his head. Not at that moment. He was having weird thoughts. Like how he would miss Crowley once he was gone. What would the demon do with that little bit of information?

"You could've taken advantage of me being sick and killed me a dozen times by now, but you didn't," Crowley murmured, turning and poking at one of the books like maybe he didn't want to look at Sam right now. "Besides...I'm dying, and I'd rather go on good terms with you."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, but moved closer again. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the demon was being honest. 

“If you take over, I want your word that you won’t take my body for a joy ride and kill people.” He held a hand out toward the man, bracing himself. “Deal?” 

Crowley turned and shook his hand. He kept hold of it, though, and studied the taller man's expression thoughtfully.

"Really? You'd actually do that for me? Unexpected," he admitted.

“It’s not permanent,” Sam said with a shrug, looking down at their hands. He glanced up at Crowley after a second, tilting his head. “Right?” 

"Right, of course," the demon said promptly, smiling. It faded quick, and he studied Sam’s expression thoughtfully. "Never done this by asking first. Just, er, say when, I suppose?"

Sam pulled Crowley closer with his captured hand, nodding. 

“It might not even work, but go ahead. I’m ready.” 

No, no he wasn’t. What was he thinking? Dean was gonna hit the roof! Or, more likely, Sam’s nose. 

He expected a cloud of red smoke to come flying out of Crowley's mouth any moment, but instead the demon stepped even closer, slipping a hand up to rest at the back of Sam's neck.

He leaned in close – very close, so close it was impossible not to think of kisses – and his eyes darkened to a reddish orange for the split second before he closed them.

Instead of a furious pillar of red, there was a tendriling orange vapor that flowed from Crowley's mouth to Sam's, like smoke. It felt warm like smoke, too, and settled over every inch of him, the presence of the demon tickling at his mind already.

Abruptly, Crowley's body slumped to the floor.


	10. Playing Nice

Sam would have caught the body, but he was too distracted by the feeling of Crowley seeping into his thoughts. There was no point in hiding away his vague disappointment at not being kissed. It wasn’t that he’d wanted to kiss Crowley, it was just — no, that’s what he had wanted. He tried his best to shove the feeling away, hoping the demon hadn’t quite settled in yet.

He finally noticed the unconscious man at his feet. 

“Oh jeez.” He knelt down, rolling Crowley’s body onto his back. 

_"Alrighty then..."_ Crowley's voice sounded like it was right there, whispering in his ear, but the words were only the half of it. Sam could feel a bit of how sheepish he was, not just hear it in his tone. _"Take his shirt off and check if that symbol's still on him, will you?"_

The demon could have easily just taken over Sam's body and done it himself, but apparently he didn't intend to. If he noticed any feelings Sam wanted to hide, he wasn't commenting on them, either. Even knowing that he was a demon, it was very strange to be looking at Crowley's unconscious face and hearing him talking at the same time.

Sam froze for a moment. He was still in control? That was unexpected. 

The brunette stared down at the man on the floor and did as he was asked. He gingerly unbuttoned the suit jacket and the shirt under it, looking for the eerie yellow glow. 

It was gone, though. For all intents and purposes, Crowley's body was just an ordinary dead person.

 _"Was afraid of that."_ Crowley's sigh seemed to brush against his ear. _"Take a look at us."_

His presence felt nothing like any other possession Sam could remember – including Crowley before, although he hadn't exactly been confident of reality at the time. He felt...softer. Was it because he was trying to play nice, or because he was so weak?

Sam looked down at his chest. The thin t-shirt did nothing to hide the yellow glow. How had he missed it? 

He shakily put a hand over it, taking in the heat on his palm all over again. 

“Wow,” he breathed. “It’s on you. The r-real you.” 

A twinge of pain radiated out from the spot when he touched it, but Crowley didn't seem fazed.

 _"No wonder I could hop on over to you. Can't run, can't hide,"_ he murmured in Sam's head, sounding tired. _"It was worth a shot. Thank you, for what it's worth."_

“Wait, don’t leave!” Sam yelled to the empty room. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, feeling flustered all over again. “Your body looks worn out. Maybe it’s a combination of your body and you. If you can keep hopping around, maybe we can buy a little time. Do you feel any stronger?” He asked quietly, standing up. 

_"Do your muscles count? If so, then definitely,"_ the demon purred next to his ear. Sam could tell he was putting on a front; there was quite a bit of pain coming from the symbol, and the symbol was on Crowley, not him.

Sam shivered at the sound of Crowley’s voice. Or maybe the damp clothes. 

“Could you be serious for a second?” He huffed, stepping over the forgotten body and scanning the shelves. “If you can’t escape this, we don’t have time to play around.” 

_"Sorry, but this body's distracting. You're used to being a gorgeous Moose-sized murder machine, but I'm not,"_ Crowley said idly. _"This is probably one of the last pleasant memories I'll be making."_

Sam's phone buzzed.

_"You should get that."_

“So you’ve given up?” Sam growled, yanking his phone out. Unless either Dean or Cas were on death’s door too, it could probably wait. He humored the demon, though, and checked the messages. 

It was a message from Dean.

_So, there's a tornado watch...and I'm worried about Baby. Where are you?_

_"Oh, right. The weather's still bad back there,"_ Crowley mused, taking the opportunity to change the subject.

 _We’re at the bunker,_ Sam typed back, frowning. He lifted his head and scowled at the body on the floor. There had to be something in the damn bunker about the symbol. 

“Give me a little more time, alright?” His voice softened. “Don’t die on me.” 

_WiFi didn't cut it huh?_ Dean replied promptly. _We'll be okay here. They have a storm cellar. Just hope nothing happens to Baby._

 _"I'd bail out before I died right here,"_ Crowley assured Sam — as if that was supposed to be comforting. _"...Not too keen on dying, so if you've got anything left to try, go to town."_

“I don’t right now. I’m sorry. Let me do some reading.” Sam pulled a big leather bound book off of the shelf and hugged it against his now glowing chest. “Just take a nap or something.” 

Anything to keep Crowley from nosing around. Hopefully he was too weak to dig around. Maybe Sam could keep him at bay? 

Sam closed his eyes and focused, trying to imagine limiting Crowley to a bubble in his mind. 

_"Now there's no need for that,"_ the demon grumbled, still sounding like he was whispering to Sam. _"I'm being good, aren't I? I COULD be making you strip naked, or wear a flower crown in your flowing tresses or what-have-you."_

He seemed maybe just a bit...hurt? Offended? Definitely not happy.

Sam's phone buzzed again.

“I wasn’t…” Sam trailed off, shoulders slumping. Well. At least the focusing must have worked — or Crowley wouldn’t have complained about it. “Just don’t dig around in there.” Sam checked his phone again. 

_How's Crowley? Don't tell him I asked._ Dean was unaware that Crowley would be reading the text along with his brother.

 _"I'm peachy,"_ the demon murmured to Sam dryly. _"I won't pry into your brain, Moose — trying to stay on good terms and all that."_

Sam sat down cross legged on the floor with his book, propping it open on his knees while he sent a long text back to Dean. 

_Not good. He’s putting on a brave face. We tried a different meatsuit, but the symbol is stuck to him. Does Cas know anything about keeping demons out of Hell? Any tidbits help._

He kept the phone in one hand and flipped through the book to the section that was all hand written entries. Things about Hell Gates and keeping humans from leaving Hell. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like a step in the right direction. 

_I'll ask him,_ Dean replied briefly.

Crowley was silent after that, and Sam could only feel a kind of distant unhappiness from him. It was so strange being possessed by a demon and still having complete control of himself. And why was Crowley warm? Was that the symbol on him making him feverish?

A moment later the phone buzzed again, and a lengthy message arrived.

 _It's Cas. Crowley's true form is red. The mark on him is yellow. I don't know the mark, but the color is important. Also, it's not Enochian._

_Thanks Cas. That actually helps,_ Sam texted back, sitting his phone on his knee. He sighed and sat his hands on the book. 

He closed his eyes. It felt weird to talk to the bookshelf. At least with his eyes closed, he could focus on the weird Crowley-feeling. 

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me HOW this happened?” 

Crowley was silent for a little while more. Finally, when Sam was about to speak again, the demon whispered, _"It's not much of a story. I don't know which one did it, and I'm not sure what exactly they've done yet, but it had to be another demon."_

Sam felt a hint of embarrassment from him then. There was some part he wasn't telling.

Sam focused in on Crowley, trying to read what he was thinking. He knew it wasn’t how possession worked, but he felt like trying. It wasn’t every day he had Crowley around without the world ending. 

“Was it an ex or something?” He asked curiously, waiting to feel Crowley’s reaction. 

Less embarrassment now, more amusement.

_"Aww, that'd be more of a story than this, Moose. I honestly don't know who the culprit is. They got me through my masseuse. One minute, stressed out and getting a back massage, next minute, waking up in a mud puddle in the bloody middle of nowhere."_

Sam felt a sigh against his ear.

_"This is why I can't have nice things."_

Sam sighed and opened his eyes, paging through the book again. 

“You can’t have nice things because you break them,” he mumbled, stopping on a page full of fancy old symbols. He scanned them over. The big one in the middle resembled the one on his chest, but it wasn’t exact. It was more precise. Sam pulled on the collar of his shirt to look at the symbol. 

Nope. Not a match. 

He could almost feel Crowley's grip on his arm, like maybe he was tempted to control it. It felt shockingly like a real person was right there with him. The demon did nothing, though, except grumble a little more.

 _"Well you won't have to put up with that for much longer, at this rate."_

Sam held up the arm that Crowley had ‘grabbed’ and looked at his hand. He wiggled his fingers. Eh. Still in his control. He went back to his book. 

“In case you can’t tell, I don’t want you to die.” 

_"I CAN tell...I'm just puzzled about why,"_ Crowley admitted. Sam felt a touch brush over his cheek. Did he imagine it? Okay, the little tickle over his hand wasn't imaginary.

Could Sam do that too? 

Feeling a little silly, Sam closed his eyes again and placed his hand on his cheek, trying to direct the feeling to Crowley. 

Judging by the little wave of curiosity he felt from the demon, it must have had some kind of noticeable effect. He felt a touch brush over his hair, so light it almost could have been the wind. Except that there was no wind in the bunker, of course.

Sam reached a hand up and ran his fingers through his hair, then down his neck. 

_Alright. Better stop before things get weird._ Though it was really fun to confuse Crowley. 

Really, really fun. 

He could still feel that curiosity, but maybe a bit of regret, too, now. Where did that come from?

 _"Moose. You're a hunter, so you've probably already checked all of the boxes, but do you have a bucket list?"_ Crowley sounded a little sad. It was true that hunters expected that they might die anytime, but that didn't mean they'd accomplished every life goal they had.

Sam opened his eyes and shook his head. 

“No. I don’t expect to live very long,” he said honestly, staring down at the symbols again. He traced the similar one with the tip of his finger. “I…I’m worried about dying too. It doesn’t feel like the end anymore.” 

Okay, that probably wasn’t helping the doom and gloom feeling. 

The brunette closed the book and hugged his arms around himself. He tried to direct the feeling at Crowley again. 

“…Is there something you want to do?” 

_"I don't...I'm not sure what's left."_ The hug seemed to have reached Crowley, because Sam felt a swell of emotion from him whether he wanted to share it or not. It felt an awful lot like longing. _"Nothing I can do for myself. Don't bother, you're already doing more than I expected."_

Nodding, Sam opened the big old book again. 

“I’m sorry it’s going to be boring. I’ve got a lot of research to do. If you think of anything you want, let me know. Okay?” 

A general feeling of acknowledgment was his only reply.


	11. Hands On

Was that the front door? Impossible. 

“Ugh.” Sam picked his head up off of what smelled like a very old book. It was indeed. The entire table in the main bunker room was covered in books. 

Sam looked them over, remembering why they were there suddenly. He sat up straight and braced himself. 

“…Crowley?” 

_"Mm?"_ The demon asked sleepily near his ear. _"Did we fall asleep?"_

Relieved, Sam propped his head on his hand and took a deep breath. 

“You’re still here. H-how’re you? Do you feel okay?” The Winchester sat up again, fidgeting with his piles of notes for lack of anything else to do. He felt like he had some kind of breakthrough last night, but he might have just dreamed that. 

The mark on his chest throbbed, reminding him that it was still there, too. He felt a little of that longing feeling from Crowley again, but also...happiness. He was happy?

 _"I'm the same. Not great. I do feel a little better with you,"_ he told Sam quietly. It was unsettling to be in the big, empty room and hear someone whispering to him. Had he dreamed the front door opening and closing?

Sam blushed a bit, clearing his throat. 

“G-good to hear. Coffee?” He slid his chair back and stretched. His back was sore from hunching over research all night. He started toward the kitchen, then stopped dead. 

Did he imagine the door or not? 

Sam leaned back out of the kitchen to look at the stairs that led out of the bunker. 

_"Heard that too, did you?"_ He had to wonder if Crowley also shared his dreams at the moment. Hopefully not.

“Wait, you heard that?” Sam asked, frowning. That meant it had to be real. He grabbed a machete from under the table and pressed back against the entry way. 

The bunker looked perfectly normal and peaceful. Was the door sound somebody arriving, or somebody leaving? There was zero chance Dean or Cas had gotten back here without Crowley's help.

It occurred to him that he had left Crowley's body laying around on the floor last night in the library.

“Uh…” Sam turned and hurried back down to the basement. He scanned over the room and froze. “Where the hell is your body?” 

There was a lengthy silence from inside his head, and he swore he felt a sigh against his ear.

_"Bloody hell."_   


* * *

  
“We should just go. They’re probably freaked out. If Cas could fly he’d probably be here already.” It felt weird to stand around in the kitchen talking to himself, but no one else was in the bunker to hear him. Except the demon possessing him. The tall Winchester focused on trying to not feel any emotion while staring at the now brewing coffee pot. 

The angel and Sam’s big brother were probably speeding their way home at that moment, convinced that Crowley had kidnapped Sam. He had been worried about that himself, but now Crowley didn’t really have a choice. His body had been stolen and Sam was the nearest meatsuit for miles. 

_"You were worried about that? Really?"_ Crowley sounded amused, but Sam detected a bit of annoyance from him. He sounded too close to be standing at Sam's side — more like still whispering in his ear.

Before Sam could reply, he added mildly, _"I vote for getting coffee like we want anyway."_

Sam shivered at the sound of the demon’s voice. His mind was not helping with the illusion of Crowley being so close. He swore he could feel warmth on his ear. 

Then again, that was probably because he was blushing. 

“Uh, um… Yeah.” He cleared his throat and pointed at a long abandoned espresso machine at the far side of the counter. “Can you use that?” 

_"You mean can YOU use that?"_ Crowley sounded a bit intrigued. 

“I use the brewing part. When Dean sets it up. I just…I don’t know. Drip is quicker and we can make it in bulk.” Sam shrugged and went to pull the espresso machine out. Where he touched it, he left finger trails in the dust. They really hadn’t used it in awhile. Sam peeked into the top of it. Dean had been so excited to buy it, he couldn’t help smiling a little. When it came to food, family or coffee — Dean was pretty predictable. 

_“Oh.”_ The brunette suddenly remembered that Crowley could feel the stupid mushy nostalgia he was wallowing in. He blushed again and sat a hand on top of the espresso machine. 

“Okay. How do I use it?” 

_"Well, I could explain,"_ Crowley mused, _"Or I could just take the wheel and you could learn by example. If that's alright with you, Moose."_

Sam froze. Relinquish control? That sounded like a bad idea if he ever heard one. Not that he really had the ability to fight Crowley off if he wanted to take over. Sam glanced at the espresso machine and frowned. The King of Hell could probably feel how nervous he was at the idea, but he replied softly.

“Okay. But just until the coffee’s done.” 

He could tell the demon was amused, but he didn't get any verbal reply. Instead there was the very vivid feel of hands on top of his, and then his arms started moving on their own, dusting off the top of the espresso machine.

Sam hadn't been possessed by a demon in years — not truly possessed, with them steering his body. It was very surreal to be in that situation and not in any particular danger.

"I'd better give this a wash before we do anything else," Crowley murmured. Okay, the situation wasn't surreal — hearing the king of Hell's British accent in Sam's voice, THAT was surreal.

He — they — set about disassembling the machine and washing it in the kitchen sink. Sam's hands moved in an easy, casual way. Crowley apparently knew his way around espresso machines very well.

Feeling what he felt was alarming. The feel of the dust on his fingertips. The softness of his t-shirt on his skin. The scent of the candy apple dish soap that Dean had bought. It was both freeing and terrifying. Sam felt like he could just zoom away — go flying off at any second at the speed of light. But at the same time, he felt safely secure. No one was trying to force him to obey them. The last time he had been possessed, he had been fighting to take back over. Without the struggle, he just felt strangely calm. Was he just a whisper in Crowley’s ear now? Or…his ear? 

_"This is really freaky,”_ he thought, hoping that Crowley could hear it. Was he supposed to try and talk? His mouth wasn’t his at that moment. 

"For me, not so much," Crowley replied almost fondly. No, Sam could feel it, that was actual fondness. Sam observed as the demon reassembled the now-clean espresso machine on the counter. "Although I don't think anyone's ever whispered in my ear when I possessed them. Nice touch."

He walked to the fridge and pulled it open, then paused and ran a hand through his hair. Sam's hair, rather. 

"...Milk...must be hiding behind all of the beer?"

 _“I think I have some soy milk in the mini fridge in my room,”_ Sam replied shyly. He tried to figure out how he felt about Crowley touching his hair. It was…oddly nice. It felt like he was running his own hand through his hair, but also like it was someone else doing it. Sam decided to test the water, focusing on the feeling of touching his cheek. Crowley had somehow conveyed that without a physical form — maybe Sam could too. He was along for the ride now, so why not experiment? Any Man of Letters would. 

"Mini fridge..." Crowley started out into the hallway, but stopped when Sam focused on touching his face. "...You can still do that when I'm driving?" He reached up and patted his cheek, smirking. "Interesting."

 _“Uh, yeah,”_ Sam thought, glad that he didn’t have cheeks to blush with at that moment. _“I just remembered when you did it earlier and I was wondering if I could, so I tried and it seems to work—”_ Sam stopped himself. Could someone ramble on when they were just thinking? 

"It seems to go both ways. Most demons don't bother to experiment this much, either." Crowley's words somehow still managed to sound like a purr, even in Sam's voice. He raised a hand and kissed his palm playfully. "Now are you kissing me, or am I kissing you?"

 _“I…don’t know.”_ Sam went quiet for a moment. Why wasn’t he more alarmed? Crowley was walking around in HIS body, in their HIDDEN BUNKER. At least one alarm bell could have had the good sense to go off — but all Sam wanted to do was enjoy it. Float along in his little non-existence and see where the King of Hell would take him. 

…What if he couldn’t take back over? What if he was stuck inside? Focusing on the pleasant feeling of Crowley’s hands over his when the demon took control, Sam tried to calm down. Crowley didn’t seem to have any nefarious plans. He needed help. He wasn’t there to take over the world like Lucifer. 

"Hmm." The demon started them walking again, heading down the hallway for Sam's room. He paused at the door. "All right, Moose. If there are any devil's traps in here, you'd better warn me now."

He definitely seemed to notice Sam's discomfort, but didn't comment on it. Still, there was a feeling of reassurance from him. It felt deliberate.

 _“…Not by the fridge?”_ Sam offered. That little kiss was also kind of nice. He felt guilty for enjoying it, though. What was he doing? He needed to focus. Crowley was dying and he was stuck in Sam’s body until that happened. _“Stay away from the carpet under the bed. And the bathroom. And my dresser.”_ There wasn’t a trap near it, Sam just didn’t want the demon to get any ideas of digging through his clothes. 

"Here we go, then," Crowley replied, stepping into the room. He sounded pretty casual, considering how a devil's trap would strand them in it if they ended up in one.

He flicked the lights on, took a cautious glance up at the ceiling, and then stepped carefully across the room to the mini fridge. "I can make us a latte, or a cappuccino, or...what's your favorite?" He leaned down and peeked inside the fridge.

Sam didn’t reply. He tried to focus on how the demon was feeling aside from the pain across his chest. Was he the only one secretly enjoying their…whatever was going on? Possession? He had felt how fond Crowley was of him earlier. No. It couldn’t be just him. 

There was still a bit of that fondness now when he focused on Crowley. For all he knew that was because the demon was thinking about coffee, though. A bit of curiosity colored that, along with a lingering, knowing unhappiness. It was a jaded 'why bother' kind of feeling.

Beneath them all, buried so deep he barely noticed it, there was even some fear.

He watched his hands pick the soy milk out of the fridge, and then they were closing the little door and heading back toward the hallway.

 _“Can I, uh, borrow me for a minute?”_ Sam asked, trying not to show how much that fear bothered him. Crowley was practically immortal — only unnatural causes could kill him. _“Just really quick.”_

Could he just take back over if he wanted to? For some reason, it felt like he should ask for the time being. 

A sort of heavy feeling came over him, and abruptly he was aware that his hand gripping the soy milk carton was all that was keeping him from dropping it.

 _"Certainly, although I can't really go far,"_ Crowley pointed out, back to a whisper near his ear and...was that an arm around his shoulders? It felt like it.

“Thanks,” Sam said, heading back to the kitchen. He had a feeling that once Crowley was actually dying, he would bail. He’d said he would. That just wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going to die alone. Carefully sitting the soy milk down on the counter, Sam turned and pulled a knife out of the knife block. As quickly and as carefully as possible, he cut the demon binding sigil into the side of his arm. “There.” He sat the knife aside and grimaced. “Tag.” 

He felt the hands slip over his, and then Crowley was pressing on the cuts in his arm with a palm.

"Why would you do that? You don't want me wearing you when I go," he said, sounding exasperated. "It's not going to be pretty!"

 _“I know — I’ve died before. Remember?”_ Sam replied softly, trying to put his ‘arm’ over the demon’s shoulders like Crowley had done before. Before he could think better of it, Sam placed a kiss on the back of their hand as it was pressed over the bleeding symbol. _“But I plan on saving you. Just trust me. Please.”_ Carving a symbol to capture him into his arm probably wasn’t the best course of action to gain his trust — but it was done now. 

There came that curiosity again from the demon, along with a more obvious bit of fear. He stood there silent for a long moment.

"Sam. I need to tell you something," he said finally, peering under his palm to see if the cuts had stopped bleeding yet. "I didn't actually come to you hoping you'd save me."


	12. Heads Up

_“What?”_ Sam thought. No, no, no. Maybe he really did want to take over the world! With his shiny new Winchester meatsuit. Sam pulled away from the demon, sinking as far as he could away from Crowley. _“What are you talking about?”_

Crowley must have felt him recoil. He felt a little bitterness at that, but mostly that same knowing unhappy feeling. The 'why bother' one. 

"It's not what you're thinking, either," the demon sighed, picking up the soy milk and heading for the espresso machine. "My time really is up – somebody's assassinated me and it's just taking awhile." He paused to wipe the blood from their hand and wrist with the dish towel. "I knew if I gave you something to research, we would get to spend at least a little time together before I'm gone."

Regret joined the other feelings. Crowley didn't seem to be working at hiding them right now.

Sam didn’t make any effort to hide how sad that made him. So it was pointless. There was no cure. The King of Hell really was dying and there was nothing Sam could do to stop it. Carefully, he gave the demon a hug. Why’d someone have to steal his body? It was pretty much Crowley’s home for the past who knows how many years. He must have felt completely lost. 

_“Out of all the people in the world — I know you could’ve picked anyone to spend this time with. Thank you for choosing me.”_

Crowley had been reaching to turn on the faucet and rinse the cuts. He paused and leaned back against the counter, looking around the room. The reaction to the hug was difficult to define; he seemed all at once grateful and afraid.

"You shouldn't thank me – it was selfish," he pointed out quietly. The mark on his chest twinged a little. "I...I wanted to see you one more time, that's all. I don't know how long I have left. And now you're stuck with me. I didn't intend that."

 _“But I did,”_ Sam whispered, still keeping his imagined arms around Crowley. 

He felt so hollow. Why did he care if the demon died? It felt so far away now. All the fighting and trying to kill each other. They had nothing to do but wait until the end. At least Crowley wouldn’t be alone.

"I..." Crowley wrapped his arms around himself, too, looking down at the floor. The little thread of fear had somehow grown, but it was overshadowed heavily by longing. It was overwhelming how much – it washed over Sam like a wave. He could feel the lump in his throat, but it wasn't him trying to swallow it down. "Why? You won't miss me."

 _“Can’t you tell that I will?”_ Sam asked honestly. He could feel how the demon felt about him. Crowley MUST have been able to tell that Sam was upset. Hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to the King’s cheek. _“I don’t think I hate you anymore,”_ he admitted. He wanted to add more, but he couldn’t. Even with Crowley’s life dwindling by the moment — he couldn’t say it. 

“I know,” Crowley mumbled. Sam could feel his eyes stinging. Abruptly, he turned to the sink and started the faucet, rinsing his wrist under it. The cold water was a bit of a shock. 

He turned and started to measure coffee and soy milk into the espresso machine, the feelings of longing threatening to swallow them both. Longing and regret. 

_“I’m still going to try and find a cure,”_ Sam whispered sadly. _“Maybe there’s something you’ve missed…or something new. I can’t just — I can’t let this happen.”_ Trying to ignore the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he had really lost his mind now, Sam tried to lighten the mood. _“I should call Dean. After coffee.”_

"I can just take us to him," Crowley pointed out. Sam could feel that he was relieved they'd changed the subject. "Can still teleport around. Feathers might try and smite me for wearing YOU, though."

The Winchesters didn't have any supplies for making fancy espresso, but Crowley managed to locate a bottle of strawberry syrup Dean had gotten to eat on pancakes. He snagged that and some whipped cream from the fridge that Dean probably intended for a pie, and set to work making a very dessert-like latte. A big one.

 _“That’s why I wanted to call first. If we show up like this, they’re probably going to attack us.”_ Sam rested his head on Crowley’s, keeping his arms over the demon’s shoulders. _“I’ll explain, THEN we can check on them,”_ he suggested softly, watching his body’s hands as they worked. 

"Probably better not mention cutting up your arm yet," the demon said mildly, tamping coffee grounds into the machine. While it was brewing the espresso through, he took the soy milk and syrup and poured them into a cup, sticking the steamer into it. The mug he'd picked for the coffee was sat to the side.

He seemed just kind of put out now. Resigned.

 _“I guess we better get long sleeves, then.”_ Sam focused on brushing his fingers over along his injured arm. He didn’t regret what he'd done, it was just strange to actually get the jump on Crowley. He had seemed genuinely surprised. Sam paused in thought. _“I have a few suits. I have the one for the FBI stuff — it’s cheap — and some really old ones I found in the basement. Maybe we should just go buy one?”_

Maybe dressing in a suit would make Sam’s body feel more like home. It must have been weird for Crowley not to be in his usual body after who knew how long. 

Crowley paused, too, glancing at his wrist where Sam had touched it. He shrugged and turned to pour the espresso into the waiting coffee mug. Next he poured the steamed soy milk (which was pink thanks to the strawberry syrup) over the top with practiced ease.

"Know any stores that sell Moose sizes?" Either he'd read Sam's earlier thoughts somehow or it was force of habit, but he even poured the espresso so that there was a little leaf in the foam.

It was quickly covered with whipped cream, though.

 _“No,”_ Sam sighed. _“Let’s just grab my jacket.”_ Sweet drinks weren’t usually his thing, but the fact that the King of Hell had personally made the one in front of them made it look delicious. The aroma was a mixture of roasty dark coffee and that little tangy sweetness of strawberries. Too bad he hadn’t paid much attention to HOW Crowley had made it. 

"Basement suits sound intriguing," the demon said thoughtfully, picking up the strawberry latte and stepping over to poke around in the cabinets. Sam hadn't realized how much of Dean's junk food was sweet stuff; Crowley found a box of ice-cream cones and some sprinkles in a cabinet. Some sprinkles went on top of the whipped cream on the latte.

Placing the sprinkles back in the cabinet carefully, he closed the door and Sam was abruptly aware of things like keeping his balance and gripping the edge of the counter.

 _"All yours,"_ came the whisper against his ear.

“AH!” Sam clutched the counter. He had been completely focused and happy to be ‘leaned’ on the demon’s back. He blushed and dug out his phone, fumbling with dialing up Dean. Right. The latte was sitting on the counter. Was he supposed to drink it? 

Unsure, he picked it up and padded his way back out of the kitchen while waiting for Dean to pick up. 

As he listened to the phone ring on the other side, he felt an arm slip around his waist and hug him sideways. It really, truly felt like Crowley was standing there pressed to his side, but the room looked utterly empty.

"Hello? Sam?" Dean's voice crackled a bit, but it definitely wasn't his voicemail message.

“Dean! Hey! Are you guys okay? I’m sorry we just took off on you,” Sam said, a little distracted by Crowley’s presence. He guiltily wished that the demon was there so he could put an arm around him, too. 

"Jesus, where the hell are you guys? There was a freaking tornado just a couple miles from here!" Dean sounded more relieved than angry. "Me and Cas had to go down to the storm shelter, but we're fine."

Crowley stayed perfectly silent for once. He seemed tired again.

Sam shyly brought a hand up and brushed it against his cheek. Crowley probably didn’t have that much time left. Realizing that he hadn’t replied to Dean, he spoke up. 

“I’m sorry. We’re in the bunker right now. I thought that the Men of Letters might have something on Crowley’s condition. No luck so far but, uh…” He cringed. How was he going to explain it? He had let Crowley into his body before the demon’s own body was stolen, so that couldn’t be the excuse. “Uh,” he mumbled again. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t freak out, okay?” 

There was a brief, uneasy silence from the other end of the line.

"What happened?" Dean asked finally. He'd lowered his voice, and was being careful to speak evenly. Maybe he didn't want Cas to overhear. More likely he was trying not to be pissed off without even hearing the situation first.

Sam felt Crowley leaning against his side.

“Someone took Crowley — well, his body…” Sam braced himself, continuing through the main room and down the steps to the basement. “Look, he didn’t have anywhere to go and we h-had thought that the symbol might stay on HIS body if he left it. So...he's sort of...inside of me right now.” 

There was a string of colorful language from his brother's end of the line.

"We didn't replace your damned tattoo...! For all I know that's not even YOU over there, it's him talking like you!"

He had a point. The whole 'say something only Sam would know' thing wouldn't help much; demons could sift right through your memories if they were so inclined. Crowley seemed to be keeping his word and not going rummaging, but Dean didn't know that.

Sam felt hands over his, and then his mouth was moving. 

"No, THIS is me talking, Squirrel. Moose is perfectly fine, and I'm just letting him drive for the most part." He'd seemed to expect this reaction from Dean.

 _“Don’t do that!”_ Sam hissed in his ear. He put his hands over Crowley’s again, but didn’t try to wrangle control. _“You’re just gonna freak him out even more!”_

"Get the hell out of my brother, you son of a bitch!" Dean did, indeed, immediately fire back with angry words. "You think you're in bad shape now, just wait!"

Crowley sighed, turning to poke at the melting whipped cream on the latte Sam had carried there with them.

"I would, but my meatsuit's been stolen. I really DID ask first."

"Oh, I bet," Dean growled. "I bet you didn't care what the answer was either!"

"The answer was yes," Crowley answered dryly, shaking his head.

"Yes means jack shit when you can't say no!" It kind of sounded like Dean had punched the wall. "I'll find you, Crowley."

"I'm going to let Sam have the wheel awhile," the demon replied tiredly. "You don't seem much interested in talking to me."

He slipped back into Sam's mind again, leaving him all too aware of his grip on the cell phone.

Sam sighed in exasperation. 

“I just wanted to give you a heads up before we came back. Okay? Cas can tell we’re both in here. He saw Crowley earlier. He knows how sick he is.” Sam sat the beautiful coffee safely on a shelf while he tucked the phone against his shoulder. He knelt and tugged out the massive brown leather trunk. “I swear, I’m alright. We’re on our way back soon and you better not stab me! And no smiting!” He added, yanking the top of the trunk open. 

"I wouldn't stab Sam," Dean replied bitterly, sounding like he was gritting his teeth. He hung up without further comment.

Sam felt Crowley sigh against his ear. There went that 'why bother?' feeling again, too.

_"He's probably going to dump holy water on us."_


	13. Going Back

Sam slammed the phone up onto the shelf next to the coffee, growling. Of course Dean didn’t believe him. Why would he? They didn’t exactly have a history of GOOD things happening from demonic possession. He rummaged through the trunk, running his fingers of the striped coal gray suit on the top of the pile. While pausing to run his thumb over a button, he sighed. 

“Maybe we should just leave them alone. You really pissed Dean off. God.” He leaned on the edge of the trunk and sat his head in his hands. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we teleported into a devil’s trap. You’re stuck in here. Hm.” Sam lifted his head. “You’re stuck,” he said again, frowning thoughtfully. “They CAN’T get you out. Not with the symbol on me.” The brunette looked at his arm and then at the suits. “We need to hide it. Just in case.” 

Right. Dean would probably flip out way worse if he couldn’t get Crowley out, but he just needed time to explain. Explain whatever was happening between him and Crowley. He slumped. No. That was a terrible plan. 

_"You know, maybe it would be better if they DID know I'm stuck,"_ Crowley replied. Sam felt a hand resting on his shoulder, tentative. _"Not that getting a little beaten up would actually be a threat to me, but I would hate to ruin your suit..."_

Then again, if anybody knew Crowley would not respond to torture, it was Dean. Getting shoved in a Devil's Trap and splashed with holy water didn't exactly sound like a good time, though, especially since Crowley was dying. Who knew when? What if he was actually weak enough to exorcise, or to kill?

“But what if Cas can help? He might know something. We should show him the symbol again.” Sam moved his hand to his chest where the symbol was still throbbing painfully. “Or we could stay here,” he added softly. “It’s your choice, but sitting here isn’t helping find a cure. If there is one.” There had to be one somewhere, though they might not have the time to find it. Dean wasn’t going to stop him from trying. Sam’s eyebrows lowered. “I’m not afraid of him.” 

There was a wry chuckle near his ear — which almost came across as whispered, too, oddly enough.

 _"Oh, neither am I. He won't kill you, I'm stuck in you — what's the worse that can happen? Pain?"_ He paused, adding more brightly, _"Did you want me to get us dressed, or you? That gray suit there is quality. Oh, do you have any suspenders?"_

Sam blushed and reached to snag the coffee off of the shelf. He sipped it slowly, smiling to himself. Wow. That was good. Crowley had made a sweet Dean-style drink that he actually liked. Glancing to his side before he remembered that Crowley wasn’t actually there, Sam leaned forward to move the suits. 

“There’s all kinds of stuff in here. Go wild.” He sat the coffee carefully next to the trunk and leaned back on his elbows. 

How did he give Crowley control? Right. The hand thing. He closed his eyes and imagined offering Crowley his hands. It felt silly.

He felt smaller hands slip into his, and wondered if this invisible form of Crowley was still shaped like his favorite body. Red smoke didn't have hands, so they had to come from somewhere.

Crowley squeezed his hands before tugging control away, sitting up and starting to rummage through the suits almost casually.

"Hmm...gray suit, black suspenders, red tie? Oh, you have red suspenders...tempting..."

He paused to sip the latte, thoughtful.

Sam sat back and tried not to think about Dean barging in and burning them with holy water — before stabbing them with his demon killing knife. Oops. He was thinking about it. He pressed up against Crowley. 

_“Whichever is fine with me. I’m surprised you haven’t taken my shirt off yet,”_ Sam whispered playfully, resting his chin on the demon’s shoulder again. He surprised himself. Was he seriously flirting with Crowley? CROWLEY. He retreated a little. _“Are you gay or just…not picky?”_

He felt both surprise and a good deal of curiosity from the demon. 

“I'm...whatever sounds like fun at the time,” he replied, holding still like moving might spook Sam somehow. He didn't even try to hide the wave of longing that followed close behind. It was shaded with a bitter resignation, though. 

Pulling Sam's T-shirt off over his head, he quickly turned to pick up the dress shirt from the clothes he'd laid out, shrugging it on. The yellow mark glowed against the soft gray fabric.

Sam watched as Crowley buttoned up the shirt. He moved back against the demon, imaginary arms hugging him around the waist. They were probably going to be tortured. What a great way to spend one of your last days on Earth. He (rather boldly he thought) placed a kiss on the man’s cheek before returning to the hug. 

_“Can you sip the coffee? I was arguing with Dean — I didn’t really get to try it.”_ He was lying. It tasted delicious, but it would get cold if they just left it on the basement floor. The old suit looked like it had quite a few layers to it. Putting it on might take awhile. 

Crowley obliged him, picking up the coffee and taking a sip of it. The taste of strawberries and whipped cream lingered on Sam's tongue.

"Sam." The demon sat the coffee aside again, starting to unbutton the jeans they wore next. "Before we go back, we should probably have a plan for how to deal with your brother. I'll let you do the talking, if you'd rather."

Did his hands linger on his hips before pulling the jeans off? Sam thought they did for a moment, there.

 _“That’s a good idea,”_ the brunette thought a bit too quickly. Never in his life had he planned on letting Crowley undress him. Now he was sort of helping him along. He tried not to let the shyness he was feeling seep through to Crowley. Of course the demon was checking him out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been blatantly obvious about drooling over the Winchesters since day one. _“Not that he’ll believe me now. It’s really freaky hearing my voice with YOUR accent,”_ Sam added thoughtfully. 

Crowley tossed the jeans aside, smirking at that.

"This isn't even my original accent. I'm pretty far removed from the human I started out as, really," he said. Sam could tell he had zero regrets about that. He seemed a little proud of it, even.

The suit trousers were tailored, and fit surprisingly well. Sam wasn't sure if he was a little too muscular for them or if they were really supposed to be cut that snugly around the thighs, but it didn't look terrible. At least they were long enough.

 _“Do you think whoever took your body destroyed it?”_ Sam asked. He kind of missed that version of Crowley already. What if the demon took over someone taller than him? That’d just be weird. Why take his body in the first place? _“Hey. You said something about there being trouble down in Hell. What’d you mean?”_

"Not all demons like how I run the place." As complicated as the layers of the suit looked, Crowley navigated them with ease. There was only the blazer left when he slipped the tie around his neck and left it untied. Instead of pulling the blazer on, though, he turned and reached for the latte again. 

"A few think they can do a better job, and apparently one of them decided to find out." He sipped the coffee, adding drolly, "Whoever took my meatsuit wasn't the brightest, though, or they would've noticed I wasn't in it at the time."

 _“…Maybe they knew.”_ Maybe forcing Crowley to possess Sam was the plan the entire time. If that had any truth to it, it opened up some very disturbing possibilities of who exactly could plan something like that. Lucifer was still locked away, Sam reassured himself. It was far more comforting to think that maybe the thieves had thought Crowley was just unconscious and wanted to murder him before he woke up. Which…probably wasn’t a comforting thing to tell Crowley. 

Noticing how uneasy Sam felt, Crowley sat the coffee down and picked up the blazer. He stood there with it over his arm, though, and Sam felt an arm hug around his waist. The demon smiled.

"I'm not worried about it, and you shouldn't be either. I'm most likely dead soon — I don't care what they want."

Sam couldn’t stop from feeling mad. Out of all of the bastards to rule Hell, at least Crowley cared about his job. He cared about where the souls went. Sure, he spent time tricking people into Hell — but at least he was true to his word. He hugged Crowley tightly over the shoulders in return. 

_“Not if I have any say in it,”_ he said bitterly. 

It was a bit surreal that Sam still felt the arm around his waist, yet Crowley was also reaching up to tie the neck tie with both hands.

"I won't stop you from trying, but it isn't your fault if I die. I've had it coming for a good long..." Crowley's tone changed halfway through the sentence, sounding uncertain, and then he trailed off entirely.

A swell of annoyance washed over them both.

"Bollocks."

 _“What? What is it?”_ Sam asked instantly, trying to pay attention to the room around them. _“Give me control. I can protect us.”_ There were lots of weapons down there. If those body stealing bastards had come back to take HIM, they had another thing coming.

Crowley gave an exasperated sigh, finishing the knot on his tie.

"We're being summoned, Moose. By—"

The world flickered black and then back in again...and they were in the motel room. The lights were still out, which made the candles in the summoning circle all the creepier.

"—Dean Winchester," Crowley finished, shooting Sam's brother a droll look. "You couldn't wait five more minutes for us to get dressed?"

Dean was glaring daggers at him, holy water flask in one hand and his demon knife in the other.

"Don't talk like he's going along with this," he growled. Cas stepped up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He said nothing, turning to look at Crowley with a frown.

 _“Okay. Give me the wheel.”_ Sam slipped his palms against Crowley’s and leaned his head against him. _“He’s just going to get pissed all over again if you keep talking in my voice.”_

He felt the demon step up close against him, pressing their hands together, and suddenly he had to worry about keeping his balance, and the weight of the blazer over his arm was more noticeable than it should have been.

With a sigh, he slipped the blazer on and faced his brother and the angel. 

“Dean. It’s me.” He held up a hand as he glanced at the room around them, frowning. “I thought you said you were in a shelter. Did you seriously summon us into the motel?” 

Dean glared more, if anything. 

"You think talking like him is gonna convince me?"

“Alright, fine.” Sam shook his head. “Cas, listen to me.” He slid his shirt up enough to show the dark haired angel the glowing symbol. “Someone is trying to kill Crowley. The symbol was on his body and it followed him to mine. I looked through every book and website I could find about capturing or killing demons with symbols. I couldn’t find anything. He’s running out of time. He said an assassin put it on him and he’s convinced that they’ve won, but if you know anything about it — please. Tell me.” 

"I can see you, Crowley," the angel told him, tilting his head. "...And you, Sam." He blinked. "Dean..."

Dean looked like he wanted to glance, but he refused to take his eyes off of Sam.

"What is that on him, Cas?"

"I don't recognize it," Cas admitted unhappily. "But that is Sam talking, Dean. I can see that Crowley is...making himself small."

Sam felt a sigh against his ear.

“It’s me.” Sam let go of his shirt and smoothed it back down, taking the time to straighten his tie too. He gently placed a hand on his neck and focused on the demon. 

_Are you okay?_ He thought, hoping that Crowley could hear him. 

_"Peachy,"_ the demon replied tiredly, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

"Sam?" Dean was trying to get his attention.

Sam slowly looked over at his brother, keeping his hand against his neck. 

“Really. It’s me. I don’t even know if Crowley is up to driving right now.” 

Dean sat up, placing the knife aside. The holy water flask wasn't going anywhere, Sam noticed. His brother turned back to him, studying his face intently.

"Did you really have a choice about this?" He asked finally, bitterly.

“Yes,” Sam said quietly, lowering his hand. “It was his idea, but I thought it would work. Then…someone stole his body. He thinks it’s the same person.” The brunette frowned. Why they took it was still a mystery to him. He gestured down to the devil’s trap. “Do we really need this? We’re not going anywhere.” 

"You mean like disappearing for half a day?" Dean grumbled, shaking his head. "If he teleports out, nobody can follow him, Sam."

 _"Because calling ahead to let you know we're coming is EXACTLY what I'd do if I intended to run away,"_ Crowley grumbled in a whisper near Sam's ear. _"He didn't even know you were possessed until you told him."_

"Dean." Cas put a hand on Dean's shoulder again, glancing at Sam in concern. "Crowley looks terrible. He might not even be able to teleport right now."

“I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t coming back. You’re the one who hung up on me.” Sam glared back, placing his hand on his neck again. At least Crowley was talking. For a second Sam had started to worry. 

"I hung up on CROWLEY," Dean said flatly. He wasn't scowling anymore, though. "Sammy, this is nuts. First thing we're doing is finding him a different meatsuit."

“No,” Sam snapped. “He stays with me.”


	14. Buying Time

“He stays with me.”

Sam was adamant. If he managed to find a cure in time, he needed to keep Crowley close so it could be applied right away. All demons knew who the Winchesters were and that they meant business. Sure, demons chased after them sometimes — but only the really stupid ones. There was no way he was going to risk passing Crowley over to some stranger. It was dangerous for both of them. 

_"You're not just going to tell him I can't leave?"_ Crowley seemed intrigued.

"I'm not saying kick him out the door afterward — just get him in a different body so he can't hijack YOU at the drop of a hat," Dean insisted, frustrated. He gestured to Sam for emphasis. "Whoever stole his body is gonna come back once they figure out he's not in there!"

 _I put that symbol on us to keep ANYONE from making you leave — anyone includes Dean! If they know about it, Cas will heal it up and they could exorcise you. I should have drawn it on,_ Sam thought bitterly. He looked down at the Devil’s Trap and then back to Dean. 

“I know that, but we can’t take some random person off of the street and let him possess them. He knows he needs me. He’s not going to take me over unless he absolutely has to. Or if I let him,” he added quietly. 

Okay. So some of that was bluffing. Crowley was probably able to take him over with ease, but they hadn’t actually fought for control yet. 

Dean crossed his arms, staring Sam down. 

"There's no 'if you let him' Sam — he's a freaking DEMON. You have zero say here, whether he's polite about it or not!"

Castiel turned to Sam. 

"If Crowley wanted to possess Sam for some other reason, he would have done it already, Dean. Instead he let Sam call us. How would that have helped him?"

“It wouldn’t. He just wants to find a cure. That’s all. He’s not here to piss you off — he’s sick.” Sam sighed and walked to the edge of the trap to be closer to them. “If you don’t know anything, Cas, let me get back to searching. There has to be something on it or the assassin wouldn’t have known how to draw it.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his blazer. It was actually really nice compared to his cheap FBI one. 

_"You don't have to do this, Sam,"_ Crowley whispered to him. Sam hadn't realized how long he had been silent until now. The demon sounded exhausted. _"The research. It's okay. I don't have much time."_

Dean didn't look happy about it, but he grabbed the demon knife and crouched down to scratch away a bit of the Devil's Trap. The knife and holy water flask were placed on the table.

"Fine. We'll pretend this isn't really messed up," he said flatly. "What happens to you if he dies in there?"

 _I know I don’t have to. I want to,_ Sam replied in thought to Crowley, stepping off of the painted floor. 

“I’m not sure,” he replied aloud, looking at Cas and shrugging. “I’m guessing that he’ll just d-die.” He regretted the little waver in his voice. God, he was becoming hopeless. He really had lost his mind. 

"I don't want to risk your life on a guess." Dean definitely noticed the waver, and looked at him with worry in his eyes. "Cas, this symbol thing doesn't even look a LITTLE familiar?"

 _"A demon probably wrote it,"_ Crowley reminded Sam softly. _"If that helps."_ Sam felt that strong longing from him again, and a bit of fear. Did summoning force him to teleport and wear him down? Was that how it worked?

 _Are you sure you’re okay?_ Sam thought with a worried frown. _You feel…worse. I’m sorry. If you just want to leave, we can. We can go anywhere you want to. Do anything you want to._ Sam hadn’t meant it in that way, but it vaguely occurred to him that that’s what Crowley might want from him. He’d…cross that freaky bridge when they got to it.

 _Maybe with their help we can find something, though,_ he added quickly.

 _"Don't worry, Moose."_ Crowley sounded like he was smiling. _"Think I just need a nap."_

Cas hadn't replied to Dean, instead standing and looking at Crowley and Sam with a thoughtful frown. It occurred to Sam that maybe angels could HEAR demons as well as see them. Could he hear Crowley speak?

Sam stared back, blushing deeply. Could Cas see the way the demon had his arms around Sam? Did he hear that comment about doing things…? Trying not to think about it, Sam cleared his throat and lifted his shirt for them to see the symbol again. 

“Crowley says that a demon wrote it on him.” 

Cas reached and touched the symbol lightly, frowning.

"It feels hot. Does he know who wrote it?"

Dean leaned against the counter and watched them, arms still crossed.

Crowley had fallen silent again.

“Crowley?” Sam asked out loud, looking down at the symbol. The way it glowed through Castiel’s fingertips was almost hypnotizing. He had forgotten how beautiful it was. The brunette frowned and closed his eyes to think. 

_Crowley? What’s wrong?_

_"Hm?"_ The demon murmured; Sam could swear he felt the lips brush against his ear. _"I was trying to sleep. Not so easy with you still awake."_

"If he says that a demon wrote it, maybe he knows which one," Cas clarified, watching him carefully.

“We just need to know if you know who wrote the symbol. Sorry,” Sam breathed over his shoulder. “I know you’re tired.” He looked from Castiel to Dean. “I think we need to lay down for awhile.”

Dean glanced at Cas, who nodded grimly.

"He looks awful. I know of a few ways to strengthen a demon — maybe we could use them to buy some more time," the angel said, turning back to Sam.

 _"Oh."_ Crowley seemed a bit bemused that Cas was actually trying to help. _"I'm sorry, Sam. I was on my face on a massage table at the time,"_ he said finally.

“He doesn’t know who wrote it. Let me know if you need me,” Sam told the angel in passing. He made a beeline for one of the crappy motel beds. Pausing long enough to take off his blazer and shoes and loosen his tie, Sam laid down on his back. 

_Is this better?_ He asked the demon, staring at the plain dirty beige ceiling. 

There was a long moment of silence...and then he became aware of the weight of someone laying beside him on the bed. Crowley hugged an arm over his waist and pressed close to his side.

 _"Definitely better than the Devil's Trap,"_ the demon murmured.

Dean and Castiel were talking quietly across the room, but he didn't really catch more than their tone of voice. Cas sounded reassuring. Dean sounded...upset. Not angry, but unhappy for sure.

Sam closed his eyes and settled in, focusing on the feel of the demon’s arms around him. He was afraid to sleep. What if Crowley wasn’t there when he woke up? If Cas knew how to help, Sam would just have to have faith that the demon would hang in there. He tucked an arm up under the pillow. 

_Get some rest._   


* * *

  
"Sam." A hand shaking his shoulder pulled Sam out of a heavy sleep. His chest felt like it was burning — the pain had expanded from just the spot with the mark to reaching out toward his shoulders and neck.

There was a familiar herbal smell in the air, but he couldn't quite place it.

“Oww,” Sam groaned lowly, rolling his head on the lumpy pillow. He lifted a hand and placed it over the symbol, feeling it pulsate under his palm. He sat up suddenly. “Crowley!” 

The movement scattered bay leaves off of his chest onto the bed. Castiel sat back, watching him carefully.

"I can still see him, Sam. Is he asleep?"

Sam gawked at him, hand still over his chest. He paused and focused on the demon. 

“I…think so?” He told the angel, glancing his way again. Right. In all the fuss with Crowley, he had completely forgotten about the whole Sleeping Beauty thing. Had Cas taken his advice? Did he tell Dean about his feelings for him? Sam felt a wave of guilt for being so caught up, but they’d still be there in a day. A week. However long Crowley had left. He could spend time with them later — or drag Crowley into the whole mess. 

What a way to go. 

The angel sat on the bed beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He studied Sam's face, but seemed to be looking at something else. Was he looking at Crowley? Was his face where Sam's was, or...?

"I did what I could to strengthen him, but he still looks awful," Cas admitted, apologetic.

Sam put his hand over Castiel’s and forced a small smile. 

“Thanks for trying, Cas. I appreciate it.” He leaned around the dark haired man to see if Dean was still around. 

He didn't appear to be. Baby was miles away, though, so he couldn't be outside listening to the radio or something...

Cas didn't smile back. He looked more concerned than anything.

"Dean walked to the grocery store," he explained, seeing Sam's searching look.

Dean did? Now was Sam’s chance! He could solve Castiel and Dean’s problem, then spend quality time with Crowley until…until… 

He didn’t have time to think about it. 

“Cas, we—” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up before turning back to the angel. “We don’t have much time! Dean’s gone, Crowley’s asleep — we’ve gotta talk. Did you do it? Did you tell Dean about the whole, uh, Sleeping Beauty thing yet? Or at least that you like him? Something? Talk to me!” 

_"Does 'Sleeping Beauty' mean what I think it means here...?"_ Crowley's groggy voice whispered next to his ear.

Cas, meanwhile, promptly looked at the floor to avoid looking at Sam.

"He's upset about your situation. I don't want to burden him with that, too."

Sam froze in his tracks, eyes widening. He looked at Cas. The angel couldn’t tell if Crowley was awake a minute ago, so hopefully he couldn’t tell now. 

“It’s not a burden to know someone thinks you’re awesome,” the brunette told Cas gently. He patted the angel’s shoulder. “Even if he doesn’t return your feelings, I’m sure he’d be flattered. Then you wouldn’t have to feel like you’re hiding it anymore.” 

As soon as he spoke, he focused inward to Crowley. 

_Please don’t say anything to Dean. Okay? Cas is serious about this._

_"Him being in love with your brother has been blatantly obvious for years,"_ the demon purred. He sounded like maybe he felt better — that, or he was using a lot of energy sounding that smug. _"Did he actually kiss him?"_

"Dean will wonder why I told him if I was happy staying the same as before," Cas pointed out sadly, meeting Sam's eyes again. He tilted his head, studying Crowley's face as well. "..."

Sam couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound of Crowley’s voice against his ear. It was nice to hear him again. Really nice. 

_Ugh, Sam._ He carefully directed the thought only to himself. _This is pathetic._

_Yeah, I was stupid for not picking up on it sooner. I know,_ he added quickly in response to the demon. 

Rubbing his forehead and cringing, Sam finally replied to Castiel, too. 

“Because you like him, and if there’s a slim chance that he likes you too, don’t you want to know? It’s not like he’s going to never talk to you again because you have a crush on him!” 

"I love him, Sam," Cas replied, sighing and looking down at the floor. "And Crowley, I know you can hear this."

 _"Well, now everybody knows except Dean,"_ the demon replied drolly.

“Oh, you used t-that word,” Sam stammered, blushing and rubbing his neck. “Yes, Crowley’s awake. I’m sorry Cas. I thought he was still out…”

 _But we aren’t going to say anything, right?_ He asked Crowley.

 _"I’ve already told him numerous times over the years,"_ Crowley whispered, sounding exasperated now. Sam got kind of a playful feeling from him, though. _"He'll need to hear it from Feathers. That's more fun anyway."_

Castiel glanced at them, looking like maybe he wanted to frown but was restraining himself.

"It's okay. He already knows."


	15. Playing Wingman

“You told CROWLEY? Right. You guys worked together for awhile.” That was a long time ago. Sam focused on that little playful feeling. He tried his best to give the demon a mental hug. It was nice that he was feeling a bit better. Maybe they’d have more time together. 

He felt arms wrap snugly around his waist, and a head resting on his shoulder. Could Cas see them hugging? Sam still wasn't clear on what part of this was going on in their heads and what part was the demon actually moving around.

"How is he?" Cas sat up and looked at Sam again carefully. "He looks a little less terrible now that he's awake."

 _"Tell him I feel like I've been medicated,"_ Crowley said pleasantly, snuggling up to Sam a little more. _"I know I’m not well, but I feel surprisingly good right now. What did he do to me?"_

“Crowley’s…” Sam was distracted by the demon’s touch and wished that he could actually hug him back. Why did he have to get his body stolen NOW? “He says he feels like you medicated him. What’d you do?”

Castiel glanced at the motel room door carefully to be sure Dean wasn't back yet.

He still spoke in a quieter tone as he replied guiltily, "Dean and I did some research and found a spell for protection and strength that uses bay leaves. I can't cast spells, but Dean doesn't know that."

 _"Lies now too? This is getting better and better."_ Crowley sounded like he was smirking.

“Then what did you do?” Sam asked with a quirked eyebrow. He gestured to the scattered leaves. “If it wasn’t a spell, what were the leaves for?” 

Cas glanced uncomfortably around the room. 

"For Dean to think I used a spell instead of my grace. I told him the casting would take awhile, sent him to the store, and then I did my best to heal Crowley from what damage the mark has caused him so far. It's still going to damage him again, but it buys us time."

 _"Well no wonder our chest still hurts,"_ Crowley mused, leaning against Sam. _"And no wonder Feathers looks a little more washed out."_

“You can’t do that!” Sam snapped at the angel. “We were trying to buy him time, not trade your time for his!” He stuck his hands in his hair and groaned.

It wasn’t like Castiel would die from this, but he was barely functioning as is. When push came to shove, Cas was more important than Crowley ever would be…right? To even think it made Sam feel like he was losing his mind. Of course Cas was more important. It wasn’t up for debate. 

Sam turned to scowl at the angel, focusing on grabbing the hands of the demon within him. He wasn’t sure how to give him control, but dammit — Sam was a walking hazard. He wasn’t thinking straight. He tried to force Crowley to take over, imagining himself retreating back into that floaty goodness that he felt the last time the King was in control of his body. 

_"What...exactly are you doing?"_ Crowley squeezed his hands, but his voice was still just a whisper in Sam's ear. _"Don't shout at Feathers and slam the door — he knows you'll still be in here."_

"I have much more time left than he does, Sam," Cas said, frowning. He seemed a bit surprised at the reaction.

Sam closed his eyes, squeezing the demon’s hands. He couldn’t hide the fear he felt. He was scared of what might happen to Dean if the angel was ever gone. When Sam died, who would keep his brother from going into one of his self-destructive spirals? 

“I know that, but that doesn’t make you any less important! Do you have any idea what that would do to Dean?” 

"Sam..." Cas placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "My grace will burn out in a month or two anyway. It was always going to."

Crowley was hugging Sam again.

 _"He's right, Moose. He won't kill another angel to get more, so his clock's ticking."_

For lack of a Crowley, Sam turned and gave the angel a big hug. He held him tightly, propping his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He said sadly, sitting back to look down at Cas. “You’ve got nothing to lose.” 

The angel looked at him fondly, blue eyes sad. 

"He knows my grace is burning out, too, Sam. I don't want him to feel obligated to return my feelings."

“Then let me tell him, or at least figure out how he feels.” 

Getting mad at the angel was just mean. He had been trying to help. The least Sam could do was play wingman for him. 

“You said he went to the store? Which direction?” He stepped back from Cas and slipped his blazer back on. 

Castiel got to his feet, glancing at the door. 

"I saw him walk left past the window." He sighed. "Seeing you moving around might reassure him that the 'spell' worked. Please don't tell him that I kissed him."

 _"Tell him to rest awhile,"_ Crowley told Sam. _"Looking pretty frayed."_

He sounded bemused by the situation, and maybe a little giddy at the prospect of playing wingman. Hopefully he didn't start talking to Dean in the middle of their conversation again.

“I won’t tell him. I promise,” Sam told Cas directly. “I’m just going to see how he feels about you.” He headed out of the door, giving the blue eyed angel a little wave. “Get some rest. You earned it.”

Cas watched him with that sad, fond look right up until the door closed.  


* * *

  
The walk from the motel to the grocery store was very short in a town this small. Sam spotted his brother before he even reached the store, although it was within sight.

Dean sat on the curb by the side of the road, a couple plastic bags of groceries plunked on the ground beside him. The stormy weather had knocked loose leaves and branches from the little trees along the road, and the messy atmosphere matched the green-eyed man's bedhead hair and slightly rumpled T-shirt.

He was staring distantly off into a puddle in the middle of the street, a half-eaten cherry popsicle in one hand and an almost pained look on his face.

Sam walked up slowly, keeping his hands tucked into his blazer pockets. How Dean could sit around in a T-shirt in this weather was beyond him. 

“Hey,” he said, taking a seat next to his brother on the curb. He wasn’t sure what to say really. There was no easy way to get Dean to open up about how he was feeling. Starting off directly sure wouldn’t work. 

Dean glanced at him quickly, scrutinizing his eyes and posture like he might not recognize them. Without Cas there, there really wasn't any way to tell if it was Crowley pretending to be Sam. 

"Hey," he replied shortly, frowning a little.

Sam frowned too. It hadn’t even occurred to him that his brother might not want to talk to him now that Crowley had taken up residence inside of his body. 

“Sorry. I just woke up and Cas said you had left. I was sort of worried you were black out drunk somewhere.” Yep. This was a bad idea, Sam thought sadly. He got back up. “Sorry,” he said again.

Dean stood too, though, reaching to grab his shoulder. 

“Sammy, wait…”

 _“Tell him I’m still asleep,”_ Crowley whispered. _"He won't talk to you if he thinks I'm listening."_

 _You want me to start this conversation with a lie?_ Sam thought bitterly. The demon was right, but still. 

Sam turned back to his brother, face caught in a sad frown. He came back over and looked down at Dean. 

“Cas is all mopey again and Crowley’s out for awhile. I just wanted to check in with YOU.” He took a seat by Dean again and rested his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t trying to freak you out.” 

Seeing that he was coming back, Dean sat down on the curb again. He held up the popsicle, frowning.

"First off, it's a popsicle, not a damn beer. What's wrong with Cas? Obviously the spell worked, or you wouldn't be out for a stroll." He paused, studying Sam's expression worriedly. "Unless Crowley's just too weak to be awake..."

 _"Wow, he almost looks concerned about me,"_ the demon observed, sounding intrigued. 

“He’s exhausted.” Sam shrugged. “Cas, though…” He ran a hand through his hair to try and tame it in the windy weather, then looked at Dean. “There’s something that you aren’t telling me. You seem like you’re mad at him or something. Did you guys get in a fight?” 

His brother glanced again at the puddle in the middle of the street, frowning.

"No. I know he wanted me to take awhile at the store so I didn't see what he was up to."

Crowley offered no comment on that, but Sam felt amusement from him.

“What was he up to?” Sam asked. He was actually curious to know where the other two had been while he was on his long adventure with Crowley in the bunker. They had just sort of upped and left. Castiel just seemed concerned that Dean might eventually find out about the kiss. Sam would have to play cupid after all. 

_How do you think I can get them together? Any ideas?_ He asked the demon. 

_"Ooh, you're asking me? You're the brother,"_ Crowley pointed out, the smirk clear in his tone. _"Has Dean here ever acted like he might be interested in kissing other boys?"_

Dean, luckily oblivious to THAT comment, looked at the now-melting popsicle bitterly.

"Using up his grace on healing Crowley. I'm not dumb — the closest Cas's ever come to witchcraft is chanting Enochian, and that spell’s not meant for demons."

Sam was proud of how well he fought off the urge to laugh at Crowley. Dean? Kissing boys? …Actually, that wasn’t too out there, if "boys" = Castiel. To his brother, he nodded. 

“He’s a terrible liar. He’s gotten better over the years, but it’s still easy to tell if it’s something important.” Sam glanced at the popsicle. He really wanted to ask if Dean had any more, but was worried what the demon would say if he was sucking on it. 

_I think so. He has a huge crush on Dr. Sexy,_ Sam told Crowley.

Dean glanced at him when he mentioned important things, frowning.

"Yeah... He's been acting off for awhile now. I'm worried, Sam," he admitted, shoulders slumping. "I think he's downplaying just how bad the whole grace situation is, and now he does this..."

 _"Ask him why Cas thinks he's angry with him,"_ Crowley suggested. He seemed to be having fun. At least somebody was.

“I know. I might have, uh, yelled at him a bit,” Sam admitted with a sigh. “He brushed it off like it was nothing, though. He seemed more worried about how you’re mad at him.” The brunette looked sidelong at Dean, like it was a challenge. 

His brother didn't feign innocence, instead looking guilty. 

"I...might've yelled at him a bit, too." He sighed. "When we were with the car by the side of the road, he kept trying to tell me something. I was so damn focused on how he said it was a flat tire when it wasn't that I kept interrupting him." 

_"Didn't they just spend all night crammed together in the storm shelter?"_ Crowley sounded unimpressed. _"Did they manage to not talk that entire time?"_

What about in the shelter? What, you guys just sat in silence ALL day? What do you think he was trying to tell you?” Sam gestured to the popsicle. “Do you have another one of those?” He added shyly. All he had had lately was coffee and more coffee. 

Pulling one of the grocery bags closer, Dean fished out the box of popsicles and offered it to him. It looked like the options were cherry, lime, and pineapple. 

"The LAST thing you wanna do is get into an argument with the guy you're locked in with for who knows how long," he replied with a knowing look. "Especially Cas. He's stubborn as hell." 

_"Now -I- want to know what Cas was about to say..."_ Crowley mumbled. 

_Come on. We can’t just ask._ Sam thought to the demon while he unwrapped his cherry popsicle. He decided to go with biting the end off. It hurt his teeth, but this way he could eat it much less suggestively as Crowley was probably hoping for. 

“So are you. And you’re both in love with your cars. Maybe you weren’t such a good influence on him,” Sam said thoughtfully, chewing. Most cherry things tasted like cough syrup. The popsicle, happily, did not. The text about ‘made with real fruit’ on the box probably helped. He didn’t want to alarm Dean, but these popsicles might even be considered healthy. 

An unhappy silence was the only reply he got from his brother on that subject. Dean took a bite out of the popsicle he held, which was now dripping on his hand. He didn't seem to care. 

"...What're we doing, Sam?" He said finally, after a long moment of them sitting there chewing. "You've got a demon onboard, Cas's...he's gonna run out of time sooner or later..." 

It looked like it hurt to even say that. He swallowed hard, looking back at the puddle in the middle of the road. "And we're screwing around, wasting the time he's got left yelling at him. We should be trying to do something for him — there's gotta be a way, right?" 

_"It's called 'kill another angel, rip his grace out, and feed it to your angel,"_ Crowley whispered to Sam drolly. 

“There are a lot of asshole angels in the world. I know what I’d do if it’d save Cas,” Sam admitted, taking another bite of his popsicle. His eyebrows pinched sadly. “But Cas doesn’t want that. So, you should just suck it up and tell him how you feel.” 


	16. Deep Breaths

“Just suck it up and tell him how you feel.”

Dean glanced at Sam quickly, blinking. A blush rose to his cheeks, contrasting with the freckles pretty obviously.

"Y-yeah," he replied, avoiding Sam's eyes. That damned puddle seemed to be the place to stare. He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna apologize. I was being a jerk, he was just upset about the car."

 _"Struck a nerve,"_ Crowley observed. _"Ooh, I know, tell him Cas still watches him sleep!"_

 _I’ll get there, Crowley,_ Sam thought, giving the demon a mental hug. _Dean is like a deer. Or a squirrel. If we breathe too hard, he’s gonna dart off._

Sam reached a hand over and place it gently on his brother’s shoulder, leaning to catch his gaze. 

“Dean. I think it’s time that we accept it. The pimpmobile is part of this family now.”

Dean seemed like he'd expected something else to follow that first sentence — he glanced at Sam, a bit flustered, and nodded.

 _"Definitely Squirrel,"_ Crowley murmured.

"I'll fix it for him," Dean swore. "Hell, if it makes him happy I'll take care of it after he's..." He trailed off and shook his head. "W-we should get back to the motel."

“Wait.” Sam squeezed his brother’s shoulder to keep him from standing yet. “There’s something else.” He didn’t wait for Dean to reply, continuing, “I’ve noticed that, uh, you and Cas…sort of…”

 _How do I phrase this?_ He wondered to his demonic companion. _‘Might be in love’?_

_"Are fighting like an old married couple? They are,"_ Crowley said drolly. 

Dean looked pretty uncomfortable right about now. Since Sam had grabbed him and he couldn't escape, he also kind of looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Well, you seem to really care about each other, and…” Sam frowned as he stared at his brother. “I don’t have a problem with that. But he doesn’t have much time left — like Crowley — so. If there’s something you want to tell him, you should get to it,” he said pointedly, staring Dean down. “You know. If it’s something important,” he added carefully. 

The look on Dean's face made it obvious that he understood, but he seemed more bothered by mentioning Cas's limited time left with them than anything.

"Thanks, Sammy. R-really...that means a lot," he said a bit hoarsely, looking away. "But it's not like that. He's just a nerdy little guy, and he doesn't get stuff like...this."

He bit his lip.

 _"Next he'll say he's been in 'stuff like this' with Feathers for years,"_ Crowley whispered, patting Sam's shoulder.

Sam almost dropped his popsicle. 

_Holy shit, he does like Cas,_ he thought loudly, again hugging the demon. Sam leaned over closer and caught Dean in a hug too, patting his back. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

Dean didn't seem to expect the hug, and tensed up a bit when Sam's arms went around him. After a moment, he hugged back, sniffling.

"If h-he's happy being my best friend, I don't wanna make it weird for him the rest of his...life. That'd be so damn selfish. I can't." He really did sound miserable. Cas had said he'd loved Dean for years. How long had Dean loved him?

“I think he feels the same way, though, Dean. If he doesn’t — what’s going to happen? You guys have an awkward conversation.” Sam patted his brother’s back again, sighing. He promised Castiel he wouldn’t tell Dean about anything. 

Or did that just cover the Sleeping Beauty thing? 

_Great. They love each other and won’t talk,_ he thought to Crowley sadly. 

_"Well, you could always hit on Feathers and see if Dean gets jealous, but after this little heart-to-heart he'll just think you're trying to get back at him for something,"_ the demon mused.

Dean pulled out of the hug, wiping at his eyes a bit awkwardly. Swallowing down the tears with a few deep breaths looked way too practiced.

"I-I spent all weekend yelling at him. He probably likes me even less than usual right now," he muttered, frowning. The words were extra gruff on purpose, and it was fooling nobody.

“I know he loves you,” Sam stated, frowning. Seeing Dean cry was painful. His brother rarely ever opened up about anything. He was definitely in love with Cas. “If you don’t want to tell him how you feel, at least go apologize. You two shouldn’t be arguing. Especially not now.” 

The entire conversation was just making Sam realize how little time he had left with Castiel himself, as well as Crowley. He had been thinking before how he had so few people left in the world that he knew. Soon there would be fewer. 

He felt like crying himself, but took a deep breath like his brother. Getting upset would just make Dean even more upset. Yikes. 

Dean pressed a hand over his eyes.

"Y-yeah, I know. I'll talk to him. Was he, uh...did he knock himself out healing Crowley, or..."

 _"Just about,"_ was whispered to Sam. He felt arms hugging around his waist, and a sort of soothing feeling projected his way.

“He’s back at the motel. Alone. I’ll take a walk.” Sam got up, popsicle in hand, and patted Dean’s shoulder. At least it wasn’t raining. For the moment. With all the thoughts of doom and gloom, Crowley’s hug was really nice. 

_Hey. Anywhere special you want to go? They need some time to talk,_ he thought to the demon. 

Dean busied himself picking up the bags from the ground. He cleared his throat, glancing back the way toward the motel and then to Sam.

"Thanks, Sammy, but Crowley's gonna wake up sooner or later. I should probably keep an eye on him..."

 _"Maybe we could go to the beach,"_ the demon suggested, still hugging him. _"I'm feeling much better, I could teleport us there."_

“You don’t have to worry about me. Look, Crowley and I have an agreement,” Sam said slowly, daring a glance up at Dean. “I’ll be okay.” 

Dean frowned at the mention of any kind of deal with the demon, but he got the picture — he sighed heavily after a minute, shoving the popsicle box back into one of the bags.

"I-I'll text ya."

He set off in the direction of the motel, walking quickly. Sam got the distinct impression he was angry at himself for having this whole conversation, but he couldn't take it back now.

 _"To the beach?"_ Crowley offered. _"Just watch, they'll somehow manage not to talk, even after all of that."_

“I know!” Sam said out loud, throwing his popsicle into the nearest trash can. “If you want to take over and take us to the beach, fine.” The brunette was worried that he looked like a crazy man, standing around and talking to himself. Luckily the weather had scared people off. He could do some research on his phone. If it was a demon that put the symbol on him, he’d probably have better luck in the library of the Men of Letters, though. He had checked there before, but there must a book on DEMON anti-Hell spells. Or something like that. 

_“You don’t sound wild about the idea,”_ Crowley replied, sounding maybe a bit put-out about it. _“I suppose you’d rather go back to the bunker, or the library, or…”_

A familiar pungent smell blew in on the wind, making them both pause. Sulfur?

Sam tried to act casual, strolling along the street towards a gas station convenience store. It was probably the one where Dean got the popsicles from. The front was glass and the reflections gave them both a clear view of the area behind them.

 _Friends of yours?_ Sam thought, scanning over the reflection. 

_"I was just wondering the same,"_ the demon admitted. Sam felt a great deal of surprise from him all of a sudden, though nothing in the reflection had changed. _"Oh..."_

A feral, spine-tingling growl came from somewhere far down the street. There was no mistaking that sound.

Sam spun around to put his back to the store, glancing around them nervously. 

“Please tell me that’s not Juliet.” 

_"She knows how to find me,"_ was the bitter reply. The feeling Sam got from Crowley was not bitterness, though — it was anger. _"Whoever's giving the orders in Hell just made a big mistake."_

The door to the store opened, and several employees in polo shirts stepped out — eyes empty and black. They smiled at Sam.

It instantly occurred to Sam that since he wasn’t in his usual clothes, he didn’t have any of his weaponry with him. He took a step back away from the polo clad demons. They weren’t actually what he was afraid of — he could see them. It was the Hellhound. 

He held out a hand to where he thought he heard the snarling. 

“Good girl,” he said shakily. It was very VERY unlikely that she would care if her old master was inside of him or not. 

_We should probably run,_ he thought to his demonic companion, still backing away. _I think there’s a fire escape behind the store._

Before Crowley could reply, the polo demons charged for them. Sam felt hands on his, and then his arms started to move, sticking out in front of him.

The world flared orange-red at the edges of Sam's vision, and two of the three demons went flying into the side of the dumpster ten feet away. The third stumbled, but kept advancing.

"Whoever sent you, tell them not to insult me," Crowley told the attackers disdainfully. They were starting to get back up already, one laughing under his breath.

The snarling from the Hellhound continued, but she didn't seem interested in attacking. Was it possible that she recognized Crowley?

 _“Are you sure you’re up to this? Let’s just leave!”_ He thought quickly. 

Sam would be a little pissed too if someone sent his dog to do him in, but it wasn’t worth dying over. There was no way he could help Crowley. Was there? Sam slipped his hands over Crowley’s and kept them there, focusing on mimicking his motions. 

_“Please. Don’t do this if it’s going to hurt you.”_

_This is the first time we've heard from Hell since all of this started,_ Crowley replied inwardly, chancing a glance back at Juliet. _Maybe they'll slip up and mention who they work for. Whoever it was, they did a pathetic job of assassinating me._

"We're the ones who're insulted," one of the polo demons sneered, drawing his attention forward again. It was the laughing guy. "The boss said you'd be weak, but I expected the King to be a little more...impressive. Especially when you're wearing a Winchester."

"Maybe I'm not killing you because I need somebody to torture for the next few centuries," Crowley replied drolly, crossing his arms. "What do you want? Are you really just here to fail to intimidate me?"

His only reply was a snarl and another charge to attack. Crowley again sent the demons flying — all three this time, and one right through the grocery store window. The glass shattered loudly, glinting sharp shards spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Two of the demons abandoned their meatsuits, black smoke bursting out of their mouths and away onto the wind.

Behind them, Juliet began to snarl, and the click of claws started their way.

Sam held on tightly to the demon’s hands, wishing he could turn his head on his own to check on the Hellhound. She was invisible to him, of course. He could feel Crowley’s strength starting to falter. He wasn’t up to fighting off Juliet. 

Sam had killed a demon dog before. All he needed was one of those big glass shards…

There was an almost musical sound as the demon inside the shop got up, glass falling around her to the floor. Crowley took a step closer as her scraped face rose above the window sill, black eyes squinting at him with her smile.

"The boss sends a message, Crowley," she said teasingly. "Don't ignore us. Better come after what you want."

Juliet sounded like she was seethingly angry. The growling was so loud that she had to be within arms' reach. Crowley ignored her, though, grabbing the demon by the front of her shirt. 

"Tell your boss he's not worth my time."

"SHE said you're smart enough to work this out," the polo clad demon smirked, "But I'm having my doubts, your highness."

Sam could swear he felt the heat radiating off of the Hellhound. He could certainly hear her breathing — in fact, there was a whoosh of hot breath ruffling his hair. She must be huge.

Abruptly, the demon woman vomited black smoke, collapsing to the glass-covered floor.


	17. Without Crowley

_“Okay, okay. Turn around!”_ Sam thought in a panic, trying to turn his body manually. It didn’t work with the demon in control. 

"She's not going to hurt me," Crowley replied, softening his voice as he slowly turned around. "Isn't that right, Juliet? You wouldn't hurt Papa." He held out a hand with his palm up.

Sam still saw thin air in front of them, but he definitely felt the heat on his hand when the Hellhound's mouth opened. Thinking of sharp teeth, he was surprised to feel a big wet tongue lick his palm instead.

 _“Ugh!”_ He thought, faking a cringe. It wasn’t so bad, though. A wave of relief hit him as he realized that the Hellhound did recognize them. He had to wonder what Juliet looked like, but at least she wasn’t about to tear them limb from limb.

 _“Can we, uh, pet her?”_ He asked carefully, finally releasing the demon’s hands to hug his arms over Crowley’s shoulders.

Crowley seemed pleased he would ask that. He reached out and ran a hand over the Hellhound's fur — level with Sam's chest, he noted, he could feel her spine and the base of her neck. She was very warm to the touch.

"She's a darling," he murmured, leaning against the beast's side. Sam noticed Juliet had stopped growling when the other demons left. He noticed right after that that the mark on his chest was throbbing pretty bad.

And that Crowley was leaning on Juliet pretty heavily.

Slipping his palms down the demon’s arms to take his hands again, Sam sighed. 

_“Let me take the reins for awhile,”_ he whispered, squeezing their hands. _“As long as Juliet’s not going to eat us.”_

"She won't...she sees me in here," Crowley sighed. Quick footsteps sounded from down the street, though, and Sam felt as well as heard the Hellhound bristle. The snarling was near deafening right beside them.

"WHOA — there's a freaking Hellhound, too!" Dean skidded to a stop at the edge of the road near the store, Castiel following quickly behind him. When Sam's brother sighted him, his eyes went wide. "Sammy!"

Spotting them, Sam felt helpless. He could feel the demon straining to stay on his feet — the last thing he needed was to be in another fight. 

_“Get some rest.”_ Sam imagined looping his fingers through Crowley’s. He added a little kiss to the King’s cheek in an attempt to convince him. _“Dean’s gonna freak out if we don’t say something.”_

Sighting Juliet, Cas stepped forward and put an arm in front of Dean, pushing him back.

"Crowley," he called over. "You look ill. Call off the Hellhound and let me help you!"

"Sam," Crowley murmured tiredly. He was using Juliet to stand up, an arm looped over her neck. "Be good, Juliet. Don't bite the angel, love."

Sam didn't feel the demon grip his hands this time. There was a brush of fingertips...and then he was in charge of himself, an arm around the invisible Hellhound, and it was scarily quiet in his head.

“Crowley?” Sam asked shakily. He sat up away from the hound, keeping a hand on her back. He glanced at Castiel, then Dean, bringing a hand up to touch his temple. Was Crowley still there? “Agh.” Sam placed his hand over the damned symbol, gritting his teeth as he finally noticed the pain again. Whoever was responsible better pray that he didn’t find them. 

Shaking his head, Sam patted the Hellhound’s back. 

“Hey, hey. You need to be a good girl, d-darling. We have to help your…Papa,” he added dubiously, ruffling her fur. Sam figured that addressing her like Crowley did was probably in his best interest. 

Either Juliet was scarily smart, or the sweet talking was working — her growling quieted, and Sam felt a very large snout nuzzle against his hair. Maybe she could see or smell that Crowley was still in his body somewhere?

"It's Crowley's Hellhound," Cas was telling Dean, carefully keeping his eyes on Sam and Juliet. "But that's Sam talking to her."

Dean hadn't looked away from Sam, but looked pretty unnerved about his brother being that close to a Hellhound.

"Could you just...back away slow or something?"

Sam smiled despite himself. No matter what kind of dog it was, they always were sweet to their master. He focused in on Crowley’s presence, absently stroking the hound’s fur. If Juliet knew he was still in there, he must have just fainted. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” he told her nicely, hugging an arm around her again. “We’ll patch him up.” He kissed what he figured was her toothy, blood-stained Hellhound nose before turning to his brother. He waved a hand. “Crowley passed out.” 

Castiel approached him and Juliet cautiously, watching the Hellhound.

"We saw demons flying up from this direction," the angel explained, frowning. His blue eyes quickly studied the broken window and dented dumpster before focusing right back on Juliet. He slowly held out a hand, and Sam heard the Hellhound sniffing at it.

"You guys, uh...okay over there?" Dean was staying by the side of the road. He looked a few shades paler than usual.

“You remember Cas, right?” Sam patted the Hellhound gently. Cas and Crowley had worked together before. Maybe he and Juliet had crossed paths at some point? Hopefully she listened to Crowley and didn’t bite Castiel’s hand off. Sam kept his own hand on her head just in case. 

“She’s not here to eat us, Dean,” the brunette called over to his brother. “I need to get back to the bunker. Crowley doesn’t have much time left.” He felt his heart sink as he looked at the broken storefront again. The King of Hell probably had even less time after throwing those demons around. 

"Then why IS she here? Thought Crowley couldn't talk to Hell right now," Dean replied, crossing his arms and frowning. He glanced up and down the street uneasily.

If they'd seen the demons from the motel, other people might show up to investigate, too.

Cas, meanwhile, had apparently gotten Juliet's approval. The angel was patting the Hellhound's side, and Sam heard her whine a little. Even the whine had an unearthly edge that sent a tingle down his spine.

"Dean's car is still in a barn somewhere," he reminded the brothers. "Without Crowley, we'll have to walk or find another vehicle."

“We need to hurry,” Sam called to his brother, stepping around Cas and the Hellhound. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit and sighed. “He was already worn down before fighting those demons.” The brunette came over to Dean, gesturing off toward the motel. “I’ll take a rental and head home.” 

Hopefully without any more ambushes. 

Claws immediately clicked after him, and there came that whine again. Juliet wanted to stay near Crowley, it seemed. Dean took a few steps back at the sound of her approach, doing his best not to look intimidated.

"Those demons got away, right?" He asked in almost a whisper, holding still. He probably had a pair of Hellhound glasses in Baby's trunk. Maybe it was better NOT to see what Juliet looked like, though.

Cas trailed after Sam, frowning.

"More demons might arrive. We shouldn't split up," he pointed out.

Sam looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“So you guys are BOTH going to leave your cars here?” 

While he might think that Crowley’s life is more important than where the cars were parked, he doubted the other two would even consider it an option. 

He felt Juliet nuzzling at his hair, and then a wet lick to his cheek. She really had to be enormous to reach his face that easily. Seeing his hair move, Dean cringed a little, but stayed where he was.

"W-we should drive the rental to Baby, then all drive Baby back home," he said. "Cas's car's still broken down — unless the weather got it." He shot the angel an apologetic look. "Baby's our best shot, and she's got hunting gear in the trunk."

Sam rubbed his forehead, reaching a hand out to try and find Juliet’s head again. He found her nose and patted it. Every second they stood around, Crowley grew weaker. Cas was right, though, splitting up could cost Crowley his life much earlier. 

“…How far away is the Impala?” 

"About eight miles west," Dean sighed. "Weather made me park her in the barn — I was on my way to a wrecking yard out by the dump."

The wail of a siren filled the air from far down the road, and Juliet growled low in response. Dean flinched.

"We should go," Cas said grimly.

Sam nodded and hurried past Dean. The motel wasn’t far. 

“Oh...” Sam turned around slowly and beckoned with his hand. “Come on, darling. Come on girl.” He couldn’t just leave Juliet wandering around without Crowley. She might eat the locals. Or just terrify them senseless. No one else could see her but him. Well, Cas could, but who would believe a scruffy looking man in a dirty trench coat telling them there was a Hellhound on the loose?

Dean hastily backed out of the way as the Hellhound's claws scratched the pavement on her way to Sam.

Sam felt a big lick on his palm, and heard that unnerving whine again. It wasn't Juliet's fault she sounded and probably looked horrifying — she was just a big dog at heart. Crowley's dog.

Cas followed, patting Dean's shoulder reassuringly as he did so. Dean trailed after the angel, frowning.

How were they going to fit a Hellhound into the Impala?


	18. Saving Grace

The moment Dean disappeared into the car rental office, Cas turned to Sam.

"Sit down." He gestured to the bench off to the side of the office.

“Okay…” Sam turned and sat down, mindful of the Hellhound’s claws as she circled around the parking lot. Hopefully no one ran into her. Could they? She had to break through doors to move, so she must be a solid mass. 

He suddenly looked up at Cas, remembering he was standing there. 

“Crowley’s still sleeping. I don’t know if sitting down will help.”

"I can see that he's still there, but he looks terrible..." The angel sat on the bench beside him, turning and placing a hand on his chest. He moved his hand quickly, frowning. "Let me see the mark."

There was a distinct chomping noise from nearby, and the heads of several of the daffodils in the flower bed vanished.

Cringing at his touch, Sam reluctantly unbuttoned his dress shirt and moved it and the jacket aside. He glanced at the beheaded flowers. 

At least she wasn’t playing in traffic anymore. 

There was a smoldering glow from the mark as he moved the shirt aside, but instead of yellow, it was a bright blue. Blue like Cas's eyes.

The angel's frowned deepened, and he gently touched the mark again.

"...Sam. When I healed you, my grace affected this." He looked from the symbol up to meet Sam's eyes. "A demon didn't write this."

“Crowley said one did, but there was a book in the bunker with a very similar symbol in it. It was listed as angelic symbols, but it wasn’t Enochian. It didn’t match anyway.” Sam sighed and looked at the angel with a frown. “Why would your grace affect it?” 

"Human magic is powered by your soul," Cas replied, sighing and looking at the symbol again. "Angels don't have souls, so our magic is powered by our grace. If this mark absorbed my grace when I healed Crowley...then an angel must have written it."

Juliet had been eerily quiet for awhile now.

Sam glanced back at the headless flowers and then around the store front. 

“Um, okay. So we’re looking for an angel?” He leaned to check the parking lot. “Juliet?” 

Cas sat up and nodded toward the flower bed.

"She's sitting right there."

The door to the rental shop opened, and Dean stepped out carrying a set of car keys.

"Everybody ready to go?" He glanced at Cas cautiously, as if asking where exactly the Hellhound was. The angel didn't look concerned.

Sam stood up right away and nodded, already buttoning his shirt back up. 

“Yes, we’re ready.” He whistled over his shoulder and then turned back to Dean. “Please tell me it’s a flatbed.” 

His brother fidgeted slightly, plastering on a frown to hide any other reaction to the scrabbling of large claws on the pavement rushing up behind Sam.

"It's a moving truck. If that's not big enough, the Hellhound's gonna have to walk," he muttered.

Cas had gotten to his feet as well, and was studying Sam's face carefully from his side. Maybe he was looking at Crowley.

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together and he nodded sadly. 

“Oh. Okay.” Turning back around he held out a hand. If they couldn’t find a cure, Juliet would probably go right back to trying to kill him — but Sam felt better with her around. The moment she left it meant…it meant that they had failed. “Juliet?” He opened his hand and looked around. 

Cas took a step to the side as an unnerving whine reached their ears. Sam felt an enormous snout nuzzling at his palm, bristly fur poking at his skin, and then the Hellhound licked his hand. Her breath felt hot.

"I should heal Crowley again," Cas said quietly.

Dean frowned a lot more at that.

"We just talked about this, Cas!"

Sam gladly pet the Hellhound, ruffling up her fur. He dropped his voice low and gave her a hug. 

“Be a good girl, darling,” he told her heavily, taking a step back. He kept his hand out. “Stay.” 

There was probably no way that she would actually keep up with them as they drove. It was sad that Crowley didn’t get to say goodbye to her. They seemed to really love each other. Sam took a breath and tried not to get choked up as he turned back to Dean and Cas. They were fighting. Again. 

Well, Dean looked ready to fight, anyway. Castiel had taken note of what Sam was doing, and seemed to be ignoring his brother's disapproval.

"We should bring her with us, Sam. If the demons used her to track down Crowley once, they would certainly do it again," the angel reasoned.

"I'm not letting a damned HELLHOUND into my car," Dean protested, crossing his arms. "And why do you wanna kill yourself off healing Crowley?"

"Because," Cas said flatly, "he'll die if I don't."

“She can come?” Sam felt horribly guilty that that was the only part of the sentence he decided to comment on. “Cas, you can’t heal him if it’ll kill you. I wouldn’t ask you to do that — and I won’t LET you do that,” he cut in, worrying why Juliet had been so quiet. Was she already gone? He hadn’t noticed any claw sounds, but Dean had been yelling. 

_Remain calm,_ he thought as he casually scanned the area for traces of the Hellhound. Cas could see her. If she was running away, he’d tell Sam. 

…Right? 

The angel looked very tired all of a sudden. He sighed.

"I don't plan to die for Crowley. I can't heal him as much as I did before, but I can do enough to keep him alive," he clarified.

Dean noticed Sam looking around and glanced around, too, uneasy. Hellhounds weren't usually silent.

“Hey, uh, that’s good. We REALLY need to get going,” Sam said quickly, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay. She’s in a good mood. Cas, where’d Juliet go?” 

"She's laying at your feet," Cas replied, nodding to the space where Sam had last felt the Hellhound lick his hand. "You told her to stay." Apparently Juliet considered Sam close enough to Crowley to be her master at the moment.

Dean shook his head and turned on his heel, heading for the back parking lot.

"Let's get going."

“Oh,” Sam said, blushing a bit. He leaned down and felt for Juliet’s back. “Hey girl. Come on. No more s-staying. We have to save your papa.” 

Finding the ratty fur, he petted her gently before heading after his brother. 

“Can you do the healing in the car?” Sam asked the angel as they crossed the parking lot. 

"Yes. I'll need to sit by you," Cas said, nodding.

Juliet hurried after them, claws scratching the pavement. She gave a mournful whine, nosing Sam's shoulder when she caught up with them. Cas glanced back at her and frowned, but didn't comment.

Dean had pulled open the side door of the moving truck, and was already climbing into the driver's seat when they reached him.

Sam patted the Hellhound’s head and led her towards the truck. He slid the back door of the truck open and patted the floor. 

“Hop on up, darling.” 

Thank god there was no one around to see them hauling their invisible giant dog. 

The truck bounced a little from the weight as the Hellhound easily hopped up into the back. A few choice words were muttered from the driver's seat.

Cas stepped over to the front of the truck, placing a hand on the top of the door.

"I'm going to ride in the back with Sam."

"You mean with Crowley," Dean replied bitterly. "So you can heal him. Right?"

"Yes," Cas admitted. "Carefully. I'm not so weak that I can't do this, Dean."

Sam leaned around the truck to look at them. 

If Castiel healing Crowley led to both of them dying, how could he ever look Dean in the eye again? It was obvious that the two of them loved each other. Sam sat back against the side of the truck, placing his hand on his cheek. 

He felt so empty. Alone. 

A huge warm nose nuzzled up against his hair, accompanied by loud snuffing noises. Juliet licked the top of his head, giving an unsettling whine. Maybe she could tell that Crowley was practically on his deathbed.

Dean and Cas had gotten into a silent stare-down for the moment.

Sam leaned against Juliet, stroking her fur. Slowly, he took a shaky breath. 

“Hey, it’s okay girl. Shh.” He was beginning to doubt that it would be. He was struggling to feel the demon’s presence. They didn’t have time to argue. “Cas!” He called up front as he crawled up into the back of the truck with Juliet. “He needs to be healed. Now!” 

"I'm here, Sam," the angel called, heading around and climbing up into the truck along with them. He stepped carefully around the Hellhound, kneeling next to where Sam sat. "He's fading...I'll do what I can."

Dean stepped around to the back of the truck and slammed the doors shut, saying nothing. He did shoot Cas a very unhappy look, though.

Juliet was still whining, resting her big head on Sam's lap as soon as he sat down. It felt like she was curled up beside him, maybe.

“Cas, I think we’re too late,” Sam whispered, hovering a hand over the symbol and the other on top of Juliet’s head. He looked at the angel, the lump in his throat keeping him from saying anything else. 

He hadn’t told Crowley how he felt. 

Cas took hold of his chin and turned his face, studying the demon's features that must have been just under the surface.

"No...he's still here," he assured Sam gently. "I can help him, but I need to see the mark again."

The truck rumbled faintly as the engine started, and then they were moving, turning. Probably pulling out of the parking lot.

Sam undid the dress shirt and tie, then laid down on his back on the truck floor. It would be easier for Castiel to help if Sam wasn’t swaying all over the place. 

“Please hurry.” He took a breath to calm himself. Crying sure as Hell wouldn’t help Crowley! 

Juliet whined again, and he felt her rest her head close to his. They had taken one more turn, and now the truck was definitely starting to speed up.

Cas usually just touched people's foreheads when he healed them. Either the damage was too much, or maybe he didn't have the grace to spare to just send it where it needed to go, because this time he didn't do that.

Instead he placed his palm on Sam's chest over the glowing blue mark. The angel's eyes flared blue to match it. White light streamed from between his fingers, and the heat of the mark was soothed somewhat — the healing light felt cool and calming.

Sam focused on the demon, imagining how it would feel to loop his arms around him again. 

“Please say something,” he mumbled sadly, covering his face with a hand. 

Cas moved his hand, looking the symbol over carefully. If he had looked tired before, he really looked exhausted now.

"I-I bought him some time." He sat back, leaning against the wall of the truck.

Swaying as the truck did, Sam sat up and caught the angel in a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Cas!” He leaned his face on the dark haired angel’s shoulder, thankful he couldn’t see the tears that were rolling down Sam’s cheeks. 

Cas wrapped both arms around his waist, patting his back.

"It's okay, Sam..." There was an unsettling whine, and Sam felt the Hellhound shoving herself up against him to lick Cas's hair sideways. "A-and, er, Juliet," the angel added wearily.

Crowley was still unconscious, and now Cas was tired enough to actually nap. Sam certainly didn’t feel like talking at the moment. Nobody said much for the rest of the trip.


	19. Calling Shotgun

While the exterior of the barn had seen better days, Baby was perfectly safe inside. She was coated in a blanket of dust from the straw. 

As Sam circled the Impala, he listened carefully to make sure that Juliet was still following them. After hauling her all the way there, there was no way they were just going to let her go wandering off on the farm. She could eat somebody. 

“Juliet?” Sam called as he popped the trunk. He watched the straw covered floor for prints. “Come here girl.” 

In the big open barn, the Hellhound's whine echoed eerily. Big claws stirred up the dust and straw in a trail leading up near the Impala. Juliet paused there, though, and growled low. Right — Dean had put all sorts of wards around the car.

Dean had hopped out of the truck and circled to the back when Cas didn't step out after Sam. He climbed down from the back door now, the angel carried in his arms and a distant look on his face.

"Sam..."

“Dean! He’s alright!” Sam grabbed the pair of glasses and shut the trunk, hurrying back to his brother. “He said he had to sleep for a bit after he healed Crowley.”

He slipped the glasses on and looked for Juliet. Thank God they had saved them after the whole Trials business. It’d make keeping track of the Hellhound much easier. 

Twin points of light floated in a hazy, shifting form just a few feet away. Eyes. Juliet was easily the size of a horse, great clawed paws shuffling through the straw and dust as she followed him back from the car.

Unlike the other Hellhound Sam had killed during the Trials, she actually lived up to the description "demonic pitbull" with short, wickedly pointing ears and a great grinning mouth full of sharp teeth. It was difficult to look straight at her, like she shifted out of his sight every time he focused too hard.

Dean caught on to what he was looking at, and hugged Cas closer to his chest.

"We've gotta talk about what we're doing, Sam."

Sam flinched at seeing the Hellhound despite expecting it. He turned to his brother, trying to hide how nervous he suddenly felt. What if Crowley died? Dean had been torn apart by Hellhounds before. What if it happened again…because of Sam? 

“We’re trying to keep Crowley and Cas from dying. Right?” 

Dean frowned at him, then turned to watch the spot where he knew that Juliet was.

"We're about to get into a car with a Hellhound close enough to bite our heads off," he muttered. "Is Crowley awake yet? What if she gets sick of listening to you?"

Juliet had paused near Sam, seeming to notice that he could see her now. She pushed her big upturned toothy snout close and snuffed at the glasses, blowing his hair back.

She didn't get any clearer to see up close — if anything, it was even weirder to know something that big was right there and he couldn't look straight at it without it flickering away.

Reaching a hand up, Sam rubbed between her ears gently while he spoke to Dean. 

“I was thinking the same thing, actually. I don’t want her that close to you two. I’ll take the truck and follow you. That way if Crowley doesn’t make it…” He trailed off, the impact of his words hitting him. They were wasting time. “Just put Cas in the car.” 

Dean stepped over and smudged the wards on the floor out with his boot.

"You think I'm okay with YOU being around her if things go south?" He asked over his shoulder, opening the door of the Impala and laying Castiel carefully in the back seat.

Juliet's ears flicked, and she eagerly nosed against Sam's face, phantom tongue lolling out to lick his cheek wetly. Those teeth were big up close. Her mouth was big enough to fit somebody's head in there...

 _"Ugh..."_ Came a whispered sigh against Sam's ear. 

“Crowley?” Sam said, turning away from Dean. He put a hand against his cheek, focusing on the demon within. 

_Crowley? You’re alright?_ He didn’t care if the demon felt the wave of relief that washed over him, but Dean didn’t need to see how much it affected him. He hugged the King of Hell with his imagined arms. _God, you’re alright!_

_"Moose,"_ Crowley managed, sounding weary. Sam felt hands on his, and for an instant it seemed that the demon might take over control of his body. The touch slipped higher, though, to Sam's shoulders. In their shared mental space, Crowley hugged around his neck and leaned against him.

Juliet whined and licked Sam's cheek again, bouncing on her big paws. Sam could see now that she had a longish tail — a tail that was currently wagging happily.

Sam patted Juliet’s head with a shaky hand, trying to keep his focus on the demon. He kissed Crowley’s cheek and held him tightly. Hopefully Dean didn’t notice as Sam dabbed at his eyes. 

_How do you feel? Cas knocked himself out healing you._

He felt surprise from the demon at that — surprise, and a touch of that aching longing from before. What was he thinking about when that came through?

 _"His timer's ticking awfully low to be doing that,"_ came the whispered reply. Crowley sounded weary, but there was a touch of his usual snark in there, too. _"I see Juliet's still here. I—"_

A sudden pause.

_"...We're not in the parking lot. How on earth did you get her here with you?"_

_Uh…_ Sam ruffled Juliet’s ears as he thought of how to explain. Being honest was probably the best bet. _We put her in a moving truck. I didn’t want to just abandon her somewhere._

"Couldn't just leave you, huh, girl?” He asked the Hellhound aloud, looping his arms around her neck. It was a lot easier to relax around her with Crowley under the surface. 

Juliet gave an unearthly whine and rested her big head on his shoulder. Luckily not the full weight of it, which Sam guessed was a lot.

 _"A moving truck,"_ Crowley repeated, a wave of what Sam could only interpret as impressed disbelief washing over him. _"You put my bloody HELLHOUND in a truck like you were hauling a sofa?"_

It sounded more difficult when he said it like that.

_Look, it’s not important right now. We need to get going. Cas bought you some time, but we don’t know how much. I’ve got an idea about that symbol, but we need to get home first._

Sam circled back around the Impala to the truck and patted the floor in the back. 

“Come here, darling,” he called to the Hellhound. 

"Hold on, Sammy." For a few minutes Sam had forgotten that Dean was there, too. His brother was leaned against the Impala, arms crossed and frown still in place as he watched them. Well, he could only see Sam, so technically just watching him. Sam realized that besides talking to Juliet, he'd been silent for a few minutes now.

Juliet had promptly loped around to the back of the truck when called — a pretty scary sight with her big toothy mouth and glowing pin-point eyes if Sam hadn't called her himself. She stopped at the sound of Dean's voice, though, and turned back to watch him silently.

 _"You're not riding with Squirrel over there?"_ Crowley seemed bemused.

Sam put a hand on Juliet’s head just to keep her from moving. Dean would be freaking out about then if he had the glasses on. 

_He’s got a thing about Hellhounds. I don’t blame him. I figured I’d take Juliet with us and then he and Cas could have a few hours to talk…since they’re in love now. Well. Dean’s in love with HIM,_ he thought shyly in reply, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah?” He asked his brother finally.

Dean stepped away from the car, cautiously approaching the back of the truck. He was definitely keeping tabs on the last place he'd seen Juliet stir up the dust on the floor.

"Crowley's awake, isn't he? You're acting different," he said, studying Sam's expression.

 _"If that's Feathers in the back seat, he's not going to be up to talking for awhile,"_ Crowley whispered in Sam's ear dubiously. _"Looks washed out. I bet he sleeps the whole trip."_

Sam shivered at the voice against his ear, shrinking behind Juliet a little. Not that she actually hid him or anything. 

“Yeah, he’s awake. He’s not doing great though. About as good as Cas is. We really need to get going.”

 _"You could use a nap, yourself,"_ Crowley murmured. _"Forget the silly truck. We're going to your bunker, right?"_

He wasn't seriously going to suggest he teleport them there?

"I can't just leave you with a Hellhound," Dean said, glancing at the big empty back of the truck unhappily. "Please. Crowley could bail on you anytime, and then you're food to her."

“He’s not going to leave me — he can’t!” Sam snapped, rolling up his sleeve to show Dean the symbol that he had carved into his arm. “The only way he could leave is if he died, and if we hurry, we can STOP that, okay? Cas said that the symbol wasn’t written by a demon. It was written by an angel. I just need to get home and I can stop this!” 

Dean stared at the cuts, brows pinching angrily. He looked Sam in the eye.

"He do that to you?" He asked flatly.

 _"Well this's going well,"_ Crowley remarked tiredly. _"Just ride with him, Sam. I'll send Juliet ahead and she'll wait for us."_

“No, _I_ did this,” Sam said firmly. 

_You can do that?_ He thought to Crowley, petting Juliet’s ears again. It vaguely occurred to him that getting pissed off might not be a good idea with a massive Hellhound paying attention to his mood. He rubbed one of her ears between his fingers. It was surprisingly soft. 

Dean held up his hands, shaking his head. 

"I'm not even gonna ask why at this point," he muttered.

Juliet nuzzled her snout up against Sam's chest. She seemed to like having her ears petted.

 _"Mmhmm, but I need to take the wheel a moment to do it,"_ Crowley whispered. _"If you don't mind, that is."_

 _I don’t, but Dean will,_ the tall brunette thought sadly. Sam focused on taking Crowley’s hands in his, intertwining their fingers tightly. Being gone for awhile sounded really nice actually. Maybe he’d even get to that nap.

 _"Expected,"_ the demon murmured, squeezing his hands. Sam felt a ghost of a kiss on his lips — and then things like gravity and balance didn't matter anymore. He turned without intending to, scratching behind Juliet's ears.

"Thank you for protecting me, darling." The accented words still sounded strange rolling off of Sam's tongue, but his voice was very smooth that way. That must have just been Crowley.

Dean took a step back, scowling at the change in posture and voice.

"Crowley."

"Dean," Crowley replied mildly, still focused on the Hellhound. He pulled her head close and whispered in one of her ears, "Wait for us at the bunker, love. Front door. Bite any demons for me."

Dean flinched at the hungry growl from the Hellhound. Through the glasses Sam could see her bound off into the empty space of the barn, vanishing in curls of black phantom smoke.

 _“Better call shotgun, or we might end up in the trunk,”_ Sam thought with a mental sigh. He hugged close to Crowley, resting his arms on the demon’s shoulders. It was weird to see his body moving without him, but he was getting used to it. It would be weirder to be alone again. 

The little kiss hadn’t escaped his notice, but he was too worried about getting home to make any intelligent comment on it. He could feel the way the demon felt about him. Somehow they had sunk in way over their heads. What the hell were they supposed to do now? 

Even if they cured Crowley, there was no way it would end well. The King of Hell and a Winchester couldn’t be a thing. Ever. He slipped away from Crowley, wishing he could hide how much it hurt to think that. 

_“Hey. I’m going to take that nap now. Don’t piss Dean off, okay?”_

_No promises, but I'll try for you, Moose,_ Crowley replied inwardly, turning to Dean with a smile.

He held up his hands.

"Shotgun?"


	20. Don't Promise

Dean seemed to realize that there were no more Hellhound sounds, but he still looked uneasy about it. He crossed his arms, staring them down.

"What'd you do with Sam? He was talking to me," he grumbled.

From his perspective Sam had told him the demon-catching sigil cuts were his own doing...and never spoken again.

 _"Now he wants to talk!"_ Sam groaned mentally. _"What does he want?"_

With all the gloomy thoughts, all Sam wanted to do at that moment was be unconscious. If Dean thought that he wasn’t okay in there, though, they weren’t going to get very far.

"He's riding shotgun in our head, of course," Crowley told the brunette, shrugging. "We agreed that Juliet would take a command to go away better from her Papa. And she did; as you see she's gone away," he added, waving an arm at the general spot where the Hellhound had been a moment ago.

Dean looked torn between being relieved and being more suspicious that Crowley went out of his way to say Juliet was gone.

"Let me talk to Sam."

 _We'd best just soothe him so he'll start driving,_ Crowley told Sam silently. _I'm really too tired to bicker right now._

 _"God, me too,"_ Sam growled, gripping Crowley’s hands tightly. _"Give me the wheel so we can get on the damn road."_

"Fine," Crowley told Dean tiredly, clasping Sam's hands in his. "I'll give you what you want." The drafty wind in the barn suddenly seemed more vivid to Sam, and he was overly aware of his sense of balance. He was in control of himself again, the presence of the demon curling close against his side.

Dean's gaze flicked from Sam's face to his hands, his shoulders, noticing tiny changes in posture.

"Sammy?"

“Dean,” Sam sighed, taking a moment to roll his sleeve down before shoving his hands in his pockets. Maybe his brother was wasting time on purpose? What if he knew that Sam loved Crowley? 

Love? Did he just think LOVE? Sam felt his cheeks warm slightly before he remembered that Crowley couldn’t actually hear his thoughts. 

There was a little thread of curiosity from the demon, but he didn't comment. Sam noticed the feel of a hand resting on his shoulder.

Dean finally crossed the room, coming over to stand close to Sam. His brows pinched unhappily.

"Is the Hellhound actually gone?"

“Yeah, she’s gone.” Sam said quietly, keeping his gaze on the ground. “Are you waiting?” He glanced over at Dean, unable to keep the sadness off of his face. “For Crowley to die? Please don’t. Once he’s cured, he’s gone. I won’t go after him or invite him back. Please” he pleaded, well aware that Crowley could hear them. The only way he could see this ending happily was if he sent Crowley on his way and they never thought about it again. 

"What?" Dean shook his head. "You think I'd stall for that and let Cas kill himself faster trying to fix it? For all I know you die if he dies while he's in your body, I wouldn't risk your life on that..."

 _"How sweet,"_ Crowley whispered, sounding sleepy. _"Don't promise I'm never coming back, though, Moose. If I live through this, I'll have to come back to thank you."_

Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Sam nodded to his brother. 

“Crowley thought that too. So why are we wasting time?” He headed for the Impala, taking a steadying breath. 

_We can’t do this. I want to, but…we can’t,_ he thought to Crowley, pulling the car door open.

 _"I can't come grant a wish like I promised when you agreed to help me?"_ Sam couldn't tell if the demon was being coy or was actually oblivious to his feelings. Even with all of the little hugs and that kiss, the King of Hell was such a flirt that there was no guarantee that he was serious about this.

Dean hurried after him, seeming relieved he wasn't trying to drive the moving truck still.

"You said Cas recognized the symbol, right? He said it's not Enochian, though, so how come he thinks an angel wrote it?"

He climbed into the driver's seat and closed the door.

“Cas said something about his grace affecting the symbol when he healed us, which a demonic symbol wouldn’t do.” Sam got into the car and closed the door, leaning his head against the edge of the window. Great. Now the only thing he was sure about was that he was an idiot. Firstly, falling for someone who MURDERED people they knew, secondly, a demon and the worst of all — freaking Crowley, the King of Hell. 

Baby's engine roared to life when Dean turned the key, and they were backing out through the barn's big open doors in moments.

"But demons and a Hellhound came after you, so...an angel's helping Hell get rid of Crowley," Dean concluded grumpily. "Great, fantastic. I'd ask him who'd want to off him, but it's probably half of Heaven and all of Hell at this point."

 _"Hell loves me,"_ Crowley whispered back, annoyed. _"Using Juliet is not something just anyone could do, and that lackey mentioned her boss was a SHE..."_

Sam felt a twinge of that longing again. The mark on his chest began to throb.

Crowley didn't elaborate, but he seemed to be thinking something over.

“Crowley says that it’s a woman and that she can order Juliet around. It has to be someone important.” The tall brunette watched as fields started scrolling past the window. The moment the car engine came on, he was even more tired. Sleeping in the Impala was just habit at that point. Covering a yawn, he leaned on the window again. Why did the symbol only throb sometimes? Was he doing something to trigger it? 

_I don’t want anything from you,_ he thought to Crowley at long last. 

The ache in his chest grew. 

_"Oh, good. Me neither,"_ Crowley replied easily, sounding amused. It conflicted with the longing Sam still felt, threatening to drown them both. If he didn't know better, he'd think what he'd said had caused it.  


* * *

  
Juliet was waiting for them when they finally arrived at the bunker, the glasses painting her as an ominous shadowy shape.

Crowley had been practically silent during the trip. Sam couldn't decide if his feelings were hurt from their last conversation or if he was just not feeling well again. When the Hellhound bounded up to the car, though, a feeling of fondness washed over Sam.

 _"Tell her she's a good girl, will you? So patient,"_ the demon whispered against Sam's ear.

Dean, meanwhile, had noticed the grass moving and was staying in the car.

"That's the Hellhound, right?"

“Yeah, she’s happy to see us,” Sam called back to his brother. He wanted to drop to his knees to hug Juliet — but it wasn’t necessary. He just reached out and rubbed the top of her head and ears, smiling despite every awful going on. “Good girl, Juliet. You’re such a good girl!” He gave her a hug, resting his head on her back. “Thanks for waiting for us.” 

Hugging the Hellhound was surprisingly comforting. Sometimes Sam really missed having a dog to brighten his low days. 

He didn’t feel like talking to Crowley, especially since he had come to the horrifying realization that he was in love with him. One more secret to take to his grave. One of his graves? Final grave? Whatever. 

Muttering under his breath, Dean got out of the car and went to unlock the front door and open the door to the garage.

 _"Moose. Can we chat a moment?"_ Crowley sounded strangely serious all of a sudden.

 _Do you know what symbol it is?_ He thought tiredly, not bothering to hide how sad he felt at the whisper in his ear. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, still hugging the big happy Hellhound.

Juliet rested her big head on his shoulder, and he could see her tail wagging. A Hellhound wagging its tail was something he'd never heard anybody describe in their notes before.

 _"Not really my department,"_ Crowley pointed out, sounding weary as well. _"I agree with Dean — it must have been written by an angel. I'm almost certain the one who put our celestial friend up to no good is still a demon, though. When Feathers wakes up, maybe we can pick his brain about which angels might become part of such an unholy dynamic duo."_

There was a pause, and then he added more quietly, _"I need the wheel again. May I?"_

_Like I have a choice,_ Sam thought with a sigh. He sat up and took note to write down some stuff about Hellhounds and how awesome they could be when not tearing people apart. Juliet was just trying to get pets and love from Crowley. Sam’s eyebrows pinched sadly, his heart sinking as he remembered that he wouldn’t get to see her again either. Dean wouldn’t want her anywhere near them. He probably just wanted her dead. 

Silently, he offered his hands to Crowley. 

He felt the demon grasp his hands, but there was no shift in control.

 _"If you don't want me to, I won't. Juliet seems fond of you — maybe you could give her this command,"_ came the tired whisper into his ear.

“I don’t care either way.” The tall brunette focused on the feeling of Crowley’s hands on his, closing his eyes again. He could feel how worn the demon was. Maybe taking control wasn’t such a good idea. “What do you want me to tell her to do?” He asked, before Crowley could do anything. 

_"I have a hunch that my meatsuit's just laying somewhere unguarded,"_ Crowley explained, sighing. _"That lackey from before said to come after what I want, and they have no reason to steal it except to irritate me, so... Tell Juliet to go fetch it. She can go anywhere on earth or in Hell."_

_God, don’t tell Dean that,_ Sam thought in reply, ruffling Juliet’s fur. 

“Hey girl,” he leaned down to be nose to nose with her, trying to look into her eerie pin point eyes. “Can you go fetch Papa’s body, darling?” Maybe using Crowley’s language would get it across to her better. It was worth a shot. 

Juliet stared back at him for a long moment, her form shifting and trying to slide out of his focus. The Hellhound finally moved to nuzzle her big snout against his cheek.

 _"She can tell I'm not well. Doesn't want to leave me."_ There was such a fondness in Crowley's words that Sam could have mistaken them for sweet nothings whispered into his ear. _"Tell her you'll protect me."_

Sam finally knelt down to the ground, petting the sides of Juliet’s head with both hands. If she didn’t want to leave, Crowley might be closer to death than he let on. It wasn’t a comforting thought, but the symbol on Sam’s arm was. Crowley couldn’t run off to die alone. 

“I’ll keep your Papa safe. Don’t worry, okay girl? I won’t leave him alone for a second.” He kissed the top of her furry head and forced a smile. 

She whined and nosed against his chest, but Sam could see her tail wagging, too. After a moment, the Hellhound backed away from him, gave an unearthly bark, and leapt into thin air. Curls of phantom smoke trailed where she had been, quickly dissipating.

 _"Thank you for that,"_ Crowley sighed, and Sam felt a twinge from the symbol on his chest. The demon was doing his best to mask any feelings, but he was wearing thin. Sam could feel an ache in him, the longing again that his tone of voice perfectly hid.

"Sammy?" Dean had just stepped out of the bunker door, looking over the car and him uneasily. "I heard, uh, Juliet barking. Everything okay?"

“Yeah. She’s gone.” Sam got up and dusted his knees, joining his brother by the door. That little twinge in his chest…Sam finally had an idea why it was there. 

_No problem,_ he thought to Crowley. _Can we…never mind._ He turned his attention to his brother, clearing his throat. 

“Is Cas awake yet? I need to show him that book. I’m pretty sure the symbols are related.” 

Dean gestured over Sam's shoulder.

"Cas is still out cold in the back seat. How's Crowley? Doing good?" He asked bitterly, frowning. "How about you go inside and dig up whatever books you can, and I'll park the car and carry Cas inside."

He trudged off toward the car without waiting for a reply.

Clearly Dean was still pissed that Cas had healed Crowley at his own expense. Being forced to be around a Hellhound this much probably wasn't helping his mood any.

If Crowley was curious about Sam's trailed off sentence, he didn't try to follow up. There was a little sigh against his ear, and that was all.


	21. Papa's Back

Sam did as Dean asked and went inside to find the book without any comment. He had left it laying open on top of the table in the main room. He picked it up and flipped through it until he found the page with the angelic symbols on it. 

Balancing the book on his arm, he undid his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. One of the symbols had to match. 

Crowley didn't even make any commentary on them removing clothing. Sam's chest was really throbbing; the symbol smoldered under his skin like embers, a sickly pale yellow now instead of the blue Cas's healing had turned it to back in the town. This second time he hadn't had much grace to spare.

Dean stepped inside with Castiel cradled to his chest, eyes stormy. He didn't look angry anymore, just...upset. Even that was shoved away just a moment later, as Sam's brother placed the angel carefully onto the couch. He silently put a blanket over Cas, tucking it in around him.

"Find anything?" He asked finally, looking over at Sam.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, looking between the symbol on him and the ones in the book. They were so similar. He bumped the edge of the book into his chest and grimaced at the pain. It was getting worse. He brought the book over and offered it shakily to Dean. “Crowley sent Juliet to get his body back. She’s probably going to be showing back up sooner or later, just FYI.” 

_Hey, are you still awake?_ He thought to the demon, focusing on Crowley. 

_"I'm here,"_ Crowley murmured, without much enthusiasm. 

Dean, as he expected, glanced around the room uneasily at mention of the Hellhound.

"Listen, we—" He stopped short, staring down at the book Sam still held. Pointing at it and then to the mark on his chest, he asked, "What do you mean 'I don't know'? That's it."

He was looking at the mark in the book upside-down at this angle.

“What?” Sam asked, leaning to look at the symbol. He glanced down and then back to the book. “It’s reversed.” Sam took the book back and looked the symbol over closely. “Crowley, when you were attacked, was it from behind?”

Dean frowned and leaned to look at the book, too.

 _"Well, I was on a massage table. I suppose my back was the best place to hit,"_ the demon replied, sounding bemused.

“Right. You told me that.” Sam took a seat next to their angel companion and gently shook his arm. “Cas?”

Dean frowned, crossing his arms and turning to watch this.

The angel was just starting to stir when there came a spine-tingling baying sound from the door. Dean flinched when something knocked against it, rattling the metal frame and kicking up dust.

Juliet...right, the bunker was warded against just about everything. Dean must have locked the door behind him, so she was stuck outside.

“Juliet!” Sam called, abandoning the book to go and let her in. He pushed the glasses up and pulled the door open for her.

"You so sure that's a good idea? She sounds pissed," Dean called, stepping closer to Cas.

The Hellhound came loping into the room, Crowley's empty vessel held by the back of his fancy jacket in her very toothy mouth. She ran right up next to Dean, who could only see the body and looked uneasy, before turning back and looking at Sam expectantly.

 _"What a darling,"_ Crowley said fondly. He didn't even seem upset about the teeth in his nice jacket. 

“Put him down!” Sam said, smiling. He shut the door and came back over to Dean, reaching up a hand to the Hellhound. “Good girl!”

Juliet placed Crowley's body carefully onto the floor on his face and promptly licked Sam's hand, big tail wagging.

"Ugh...Dean?" Cas slowly sat up on the couch, squinting at the gathering of brothers, Hellhound, demon and body assembled in front of him. He blinked.

Dean quickly turned his attention to the angel.

"Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?"

Rubbing the Hellhound’s ears happily, Sam ducked down to check on Crowley’s body. He rolled the man over and examined him. It was weird to think that Crowley wasn’t actually in there. The man was still classy-looking though. Sam put a hand on his cheek. 

_Hey. Looks like they left you in one piece._

_"Not a scratch on him,"_ Crowley agreed, sounding pleased. He said that, but Sam's chest ached again. Juliet lay down on the floor in front of the body, nosing at it. She whined a little. 

_"Moose,"_ Crowley whispered, _"We've got to deal with the mark you carved on before I can go back to my own body. Don't think Feathers is quite up to healing it away."_

Dean and Cas had been talking quietly; Sam had totally missed whatever they'd said, though. The angel looked very tired, and Dean was patting his shoulder, frowning to bury any other emotions. The two of them hadn't spoken since their argument before Cas went to sleep.

“I…” Sam said softly, but he caught himself. 

_I don’t want you to leave,_ he told the demon. He wanted to reassure himself that it was for Crowley’s own good, but he knew it wasn’t.

 _"I don't plan on leaving,"_ the demon assured him. _"Now that we know what the mark is, we can figure out how to get it off. If we don't do that in time, though, I'd rather die alone than with you."_

That came out sounding harsher than he probably meant. Then again, after they told each other they didn't want each other, maybe he did mean it that way.

The ache in his chest wasn't so much a throb now as a constant pain.

Sam glanced at Dean and Cas, petting Juliet again. 

_When we get it off, you can go back to your body. Otherwise, you’re just wasting energy. I can tell how worn down you are. And I…I…_ Sam rubbed his forehead. _I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I do want something from you._

There went that longing feeling again. It was almost overwhelming. 

Still, Crowley insisted tiredly, _"If I'm going to die, Sam, I'm doing it on my own terms. In my own body. In my own clothes."_

Castiel was leaning heavily on Dean's shoulder now, looking pale.

"Sam, what were you gonna ask him?" Dean asked, unaware of the conversation going on in Sam's head. "He needs to rest. Ask so he can lay down again."

Pulled from his thoughts, Sam stood up and gestured to the symbol on his chest. 

“Cas, it’s the same symbol in that book — but it’s reversed. Crowley was attacked from behind and the angel wrote it on his back. Do you have any idea how to undo it?”

The angel looked down at Crowley's body on the floor, leaning against Dean.

"It's still not Enochian," he said, looking at the mark on Sam's chest next. "Mirrored..." He frowned, sitting up a little. "Sam. I know which angel wrote this."

Dean glanced at Sam's chest, blinking. 

"What, does he have his own alphabet?"

Crowley was being very quiet.

Relieved that Castiel might know something, Sam turned his attention back to Crowley. 

_If you want to go back to your body, I won’t stop you. But don’t leave. Please. No one deserves to die alone and we have a chance to stop this._

Sam went to the table and leaned over it, picking up a letter opener. Biting it in his teeth, he rolled up his sleeve. 

"Whoa, whoa," Dean said, jumping up from the couch. "What're you doing, Sam?"

Cas didn't seem that alarmed. Maybe he didn't have the energy to be alarmed.

 _"Cas knows about the angel involved,"_ Crowley whispered. _"And I have an inkling who the demon on my throne is as well. There's no chance of solving this in time unless we all pitch in and help, Moose."_

_I AM helping,_ Sam thought, cutting a very light ‘x’ over the symbol on his arm. _You want to go back to your body? Go ahead._

Sam figured Crowley would just find the nearest vent and be gone forever. 

_Wait. About my wish,_ he began, already struggling with how to actually admit what he needed to. 

Realizing what he was doing, Dean lowered the hands he'd been holding up, frowning. He cautiously stepped back around Crowley's body (and Juliet, though he couldn't see her) and returned to the couch.

"Okay..."

Sam felt the heat rising in his throat, like he'd swallowed smoke. Or like smoke was coming up. The edges of his vision turned reddish.

 _"I'm a demon of my word,"_ Crowley whispered to him, hands brushing over Sam's palms. _"Whatever you want."_ He thought he felt a kiss against his ear. Did he imagine it? Did he just wish for it? 

The world faded into blurry redness and an almost painful ringing in his ears — and then Sam was alone in his own head again.

Empty. He felt empty. Like someone had just torn half of him away. All the things he felt from Crowley were gone — only his own emotions remained. They felt like they weren’t enough. He felt hollowed out. 

Sam braced himself as he turned to see where Crowley went. Was he leaving? Was he staying? Why hadn’t Sam told him that he loved him? 

Juliet was nuzzling her big snout at the body on the floor, which was beginning to move. Crowley slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, turning to hug the Hellhound with one arm.

"You darling, you," he cooed, kissing her nose. "Papa's back thanks to you."

Dean actually looked glad about this development, if a little unnerved about the Hellhound being so close still. He looked over at Sam worriedly.

Sam couldn’t look back at his brother. He turned and went straight into the kitchen. He had to get his head on straight. For lack of anything to do, he started making coffee — but he had barely dumped the grounds into the filter when he abandoned that to put his hands over his face. He took a shaky breath. 

Why hadn't he said it? How could he still be thinking of saying it? Crowley would rather die alone.


	22. Something Real

Footsteps sounded behind Sam, pausing in the doorway.

"Hey." 

It was Dean. The steps moved closer. "Sam?"

“Yeah,” Sam said quickly, wiping at his face. _Get it together_ , he thought to himself sadly. It wasn’t like Crowley would reply to what he’d said. The apology, the remark about wishes… “Just making coffee. I figure we’re gonna have a late night, right?” 

He glanced over at Dean. His brother was looking at him with obvious worry. There was a heavy, well-buried sadness underneath that, too, though. Castiel's condition had to be weighing on his mind. Even though he probably didn't want to leave Cas even for a minute, here he was checking on Sam. Typical Dean.

"Crowley just went back to his own meatsuit, so I know you're talking for yourself right now," Dean began quietly. "How're you doing? You okay?"

Sam wanted to lie, but instead he just shook his head. He couldn’t tell Dean what was really going on -- they needed to spend their time saving Crowley and Cas. Not that they could actually help the angel without stealing another angel's grace... It had to be obvious that he wasn't really okay, though.

Sitting the coffee pot aside, Sam stepped over and gave his brother a hug. He figured they could both use a little support right now, and Dean sure as hell would never try. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Dean hugged him tightly.

"Was he lying?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "Did he really give you any choice?"

“No, it’s not Crowley’s fault. I let him take over. He listened to me,” Sam said sadly, propping his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “I…I think I need him.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he tensed and braced himself. He couldn't lie about it forever, though. Dean probably already had a clue, right?

He felt more than saw the little nod his brother made. Dean drew a deep breath.

"Thought so. I don't get why, but it's the only reason you'd encourage Cas to...do what he did," he mumbled, the words coming out thick. "Must think Crowley's just as important..."

“I love him,” Sam breathed as quietly as he could, fearful that Castiel would hear them. Maybe he was asleep again. Hopefully. The brunette squeezed his brother in his arms and then took a step back, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know why or how it happened…I-I just hate myself for it. I can’t live like this.” He shielded his face with a hand. 

Dean was quiet for so long he started to wonder if the declaration had actually shocked him.

“But I meant w-what I said earlier.” Sam took a breath and tried to will his eyes to stop stinging so painfully. “I won’t go after him. I just want him to be alive. I swear. I swear,” He repeated, dabbing at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. It was pointless. Dean had already seen him crying and blubbering over Crowley. 

Dean stepped after him, though, placing a hand onto his shoulder. 

"He's gonna make it, Sam," he promised. "We're gonna save him. There's a chance for him, that's more than Cas..."

He trailed off, closing his eyes and sucking in a shaky breath, squeezing Sam's shoulder. "...I-I get it. Okay? In the same kind of boat, only mine's already goin' under..."

“I know.” Sam looked over at Dean sadly. “Sorry. We should be looking for a cure. Or cures, if it’s possible. We shouldn’t be wasting time making coffee.”

"Cas won't let us get what he needs..." It was Dean's turn to wipe at his eyes, trying to dry them on the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He couldn't quite conceal a tiny sniffle. "Guess Crowley knows how you feel, since he was in your head. G-got me beat there, too."

“We can’t be a thing. I’m not going to tell, and neither are you. Please.” Sam leaned back in and gave Dean a one-armed hug, patting his back. “But you should tell Cas. I already told you that, remember?” Sitting back, he frowned at Dean. “You guys were stuck together for DAYS.” 

His brother managed a tiny, bitter laugh at that, shaking his head. 

"Yeah, arguing about stupid crap like car parts." He got a distant look in his eyes, glancing back at the kitchen door. "I-I thought I'd have more time with him."

There were soft voices from the main room. Crowley and Cas seemed to be discussing something.

“Then why are you in here? Go talk to him.” Sam patted Dean’s shoulder again and let go of him. He pushed his brother toward the door. Cas and Crowley talking probably wasn’t a good thing. Who knew what they had to talk about? Most likely how they were both dying and how it sucked.

As tired and sad as he was, Dean mustered a small smile at that. 

“You’re right.” Taking a deep breath, he wiped at his eyes one more time and added, “I-I’m not gonna waste another minute. I'm gonna go say what I've gotta say.” 

He was already heading for the kitchen door by the time the words sank in.

Wait, what? Sam had expected Dean to just bottle things up again. Was he really going to...?

From the other room, he heard the conversation between Cas and Crowley being interrupted by Dean.

"Crowley, Sam wants a word. He's in the kitchen." More like DEAN wanted a word — with Cas, without a demon audience. "Take your Hellhound with you!" Was hollered after Crowley, who had apparently started straight for the kitchen door after the last comment.

The demon paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder rather than looking into the kitchen yet.

"Oh, she's following me."

Taking slow, deep breaths, Sam busied himself setting up the coffee to brew. Great. Just great. Now Crowley would see him all red-eyed and mopey. 

As he flipped the coffee pot on, Sam couldn’t force himself to turn around. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of it and watched as the roasty scented brew began to drip into the carafe. 

The King of Hell stepped into the room, and the click of claws on the tiles announced that Juliet had indeed followed closely behind. Right, Sam had taken off the Hellhound glasses to wipe at his eyes before. They were sitting on the kitchen counter next to the coffee grinder.

Hushed voices came from the living room. Well, one. It sounded like Dean, but was far too quiet to make out words.

Sitting the glasses back on his nose, Sam slowly turned to face the demon. Crowley looked weary. 

“I…never knew you drank coffee before. I don’t think I’d ever seen you drink anything except alcohol,” he commented tiredly, offering a hand out toward Juliet. “Hey honey.”

The Hellhound licked his hand, the glowing pin point eyes less scary somehow now. She didn't seem to act any differently now that Crowley wasn't possessing him — definitely not like he'd be any threat to her master.

"Sitting on the throne of Hell holding a latte just doesn't strike fear into any hearts," Crowley replied mildly, crossing his arms. He grimaced a little at the pressure on his chest, though, and uncrossed them again quickly. "...Is that what you wanted to say to me?"

Sam looked up from under his eyebrows at Crowley, trying and failing to keep how upset he was from appearing on his face. He shook his head slowly. He grabbed one of Juliet’s ears and rubbed it gently. How was he supposed to say it out loud? Admitting it to Dean was painful enough. 

Demonic, soulless, cruel… Knowing what Crowley was did nothing to stop Sam’s feelings from overwhelming him. He felt the lump in his throat forming again. 

“Please d-don’t die.” 

Crowley actually seemed surprised, thought Sam couldn't tell if it was by the words or the way he'd said them. Regardless, the demon blinked and glanced down at Juliet, petting her ears as well. He let his hand fall over Sam's there, resting on top of it.

It felt just like it had when they had been in one body, Crowley reaching to take over control. Or returning it to Sam.

"Oh, I don't intend to. Haven't granted any wishes for you yet, Moose."

Sam grasped his hand tightly and stepped closer, looking down at the demon. Unable to find the right words, he bent down and pressed a kiss to those demonic lips. He slipped his free hand up to rest behind Crowley’s shoulder, barely remembering in time not to touch the seething mark on the demon’s chest. 

This was nothing like the ghosts of kisses during the possession — it was real. It made his stomach flutter and his heart pound, especially when Crowley brought both hands up to his face, thumbs stroking gently across his cheeks. He returned the kiss without hesitation, too, far more tenderly than Sam might have guessed.

Sam gave in and wrapped his arms around the demon, pulling him against him. He broke away from the kiss and hugged Crowley closer. If he hadn’t been crying before, he was now. He was right. Crowley had feelings for him too. In some way, somehow — it wasn’t just him. Right...?

“I wish you loved me,” he breathed at last, sniffling against the shorter man’s shoulder. 

"You don't think I can?" Crowley whispered to him, just like when they had been so close in their minds. It had to hurt to press on his chest, but he let Sam hold him, slipping both arms up to loop around his neck.

“I don’t think you want to,” Sam replied softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t want to either, but I do. I love you.” Again, guilt tugged at his heart strings. He shouldn’t love a demon, especially not the King of Hell. There was no telling if Crowley’s twisted red soul was even capable of love anymore. He hadn’t been human for a very long time. 

The reaction was immediate. The demon pulled away enough to see Sam, studying the look on his face, the tears, with something between disbelief and hope in his eyes. That, and so much longing. 

He cupped Sam's face in his hands, whispering, "Say that again."

“I love you,” Sam said guiltily, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I wasted so much time. I’m sorry,” he said again.

Crowley shook his head, staring up at him still. The look was more wonder than anything now. 

"No, no, don't be sorry..." He pushed at Sam's chest, taking a few steps back and looking around the kitchen like he was lost. He finally settled for a troubled look down at the coffee pot, brows pinching as he hugged both arms around himself. "N-nobody's ever said that to me before and meant it. Not in three and a half centuries. And I believe you."

“Of course I mean it!” Sam moved after him, placing a hand on his shoulder to hold the collar of his suit. Now that he had said it out loud, it felt real. And Crowley hadn’t outright rejected him, so he could dare to hope… However the demon felt, though, it had to wait. They didn’t have much time left to get the death mark off of him.


	23. Making Plans

“We have to get that symbol off. Please.” Sam pulled Crowley along toward the door. “Cas!” 

"Wait..." Crowley grabbed onto his arm, but didn't really resist being dragged along. "His grace is almost gone. If he did anything, he would kill himself."

Claws scrabbled on tile as Juliet followed them. She must have been sitting very quietly there this whole time.

Sam glanced back at her and then to her master. 

“I didn’t plan on him healing you. He said earlier that he knew what angel wrote the symbol. If he knows that, maybe he knows how to remove it.” 

Now that he was looking back at Crowley, he felt his heart sinking. Juliet was staying close. It wasn’t a good sign. 

Now that they'd stopped moving, he noticed that Crowley was leaning against him a little, too, and looked pained. Changing bodies had to have taken up some of the demon's power.

"He told me a bit while you and Squirrel where having your moment in the kitchen," Crowley admitted, resting his free hand on Juliet's back. He winced a bit. "Fine...let's talk to him again."

The Hellhound whined and kept close to his side.

Sam gently pulled Crowley up enough to kiss him again. He looked down at the demon and sighed. Tugging Crowley’s arm over his shoulder, he helped him along back to the main room. At least the King wouldn’t fall over with Juliet on one side and Sam on the other. 

Out in the main room, Castiel was laying down on the couch. Rather than sit over next to his feet, Dean had sat down on the floor near the angel's side, his back to the cushions. Cas's arm was wrapped halfway around his chest, and Sam's brother held his hand tightly, tearful green eyes aimed down at the floor.

Sam helped Crowley onto the other end of the couch and turned to his brother. 

“Is he okay?” He knelt next to Dean, looking at the angel closely. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Sam and Crowley weren’t the only ones with little time left. Unlike the King of Hell, Castiel’s condition didn’t have a quick fix by removing a symbol. 

Dean almost couldn't look at him. He sniffled and shook his head, turning toward Cas without letting go of his hand.

"He's fading in and out," he explained, his voice breaking a little. "I-I said it, Sam. I said it, and he..."

He trailed off and shook his head again, looking at the angel. Cas could have been dead, he was so still.

Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes as he moved to hug his brother.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Dean caught him by the shoulders, though, shaking his head again. 

"N-no, you don't get it, Sammy. I said it and he k-kissed me. He loves me," he choked, a few tears escaping down his cheeks. "H-he loves me too. He's loved me f-for years, and now we don't even have a day left..."

“He…he’s not dead?” Sam managed. Of course Cas loved Dean. He hadn’t exactly hidden that fact. It was Dean who had been oblivious to his feelings. Then again, Sam hadn’t noticed either until the angel had told him. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Thank God.” 

Sam got up and moved to Crowley. There was no way that Cas could help them remove the symbol. Even trying to wake him up and make him move around might kill him right now — he was barely hanging on. Both the demon and the angel had run out of time. 

Dean stayed exactly where he was, holding Cas's hand. He seemed pretty hopeless, even with the angel still alive.

Crowley looked at Sam as he stepped over, moving away from where he had obviously been staring at Dean and Castiel. He waved Sam closer, sitting up with a small wince.

"Let's go back into the kitchen."

Juliet rose from where she had been sitting beside the couch, watching them.

As much as Sam wanted to say goodbye to the angel, giving Dean time to say goodbye was more important. He nodded to Crowley, slipping an arm around his waist to help him back toward the kitchen. The coffee should be done, he thought miserably. 

“Come on, Juliet,” he called softly to her. Dean didn’t have time to worry about a Hellhound being around. 

The kitchen smelled like fresh brewed coffee, the usually happy smell conflicting with an otherwise miserable situation. Dean had said Cas was fading in and out, so it was possible he would wake up again. It was just as possible he was gone for good, too, though.

Crowley let go of Sam the moment they reached the counter, turning to lean on it instead.

"Dumah," he said, wincing. "That's the angel who wrote this onto me, Cas said. Guards the gates of Hell, where he obviously hit it off with the only demon who fits the profile for this bloody mess."

Juliet whined and nosed at his shoulder, and he sighed and patted her head.

“Alright. How is that supposed to help us? Cas can’t even get off of the couch and you’re…you’re falling over with exhaustion.” Sam came over and lingered near the demon in case. “You can’t teleport down there and even if you did — you can’t take out a demon AND an angel. No way.” 

"The traitor has to be Mara — my Queen of the Crossroads," Crowley said wearily. He looked tempted to lean on Sam instead of the counter, but stubbornly stayed where he was. "She's the only one who could command Juliet besides me. Before I was King, we...used to work together."

The little shrug that went with that implied maybe work wasn't all.

"I say we summon her up and have a little chat."

That sounded like an actual plan. Sam nodded and went to rummage in the cabinets. 

“Okay, that sounds like it might work. What do we need?” He glanced at Crowley. “A crossroads?”

The demon mustered a small smirk at that.

"Since she's currently on my throne, she's Queen of Hell, Moose. She won't run errands like that. A good old-fashioned summoning circle ought to do it — Devil’s trap on the ceiling. Demons can't just swipe ignore on a summoning spell."

Juliet whined again, licking his hand. Crowley patted her nose gingerly.

"Darling, go guard Dean and the angel. From across the room."

The Hellhound whined, but hurried off into the main room as ordered.  


* * *

  
“Okay,” Sam said, standing up to wipe his hands on his jeans. The paint left red smears on the fabric but he didn’t care at the moment. He turned to where Crowley was seated on the basement steps and gestured openly with both arms. “I think this should do it.” Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he went over to pluck the shiny brass bowl of spell ingredients off of the steps beside the demon.

If it didn’t work, they were really up the creek without a paddle. He hugged the big bowl to his chest and stared down at Crowley sadly. No backing out now. 

The demon had been so quiet during the set up that it was worrying him. If Cas hadn't healed him, Crowley would have been dead by now.

At the moment, though, he smirked at Sam and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you ready to talk a good game, Moose? Us versus them, two on two?"

A human and a dying demon versus an angel and the Queen of Hell wasn't exactly a fair match.

“I am if you are,” Sam said quietly, stepping closer to Crowley. “I just…there are a lot of ways this could go wrong. I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

Crowley glanced at him, something unreadable in his eyes. He held up a hand.

"If we do nothing, we're making it goodbye. Worse, I go down in history as the King of Hell who quietly got assassinated — that's so boring."

Sam leaned down to kiss the King’s cheek lightly. 

“Let’s do this.” He turned and stepped out into the big circle, sitting the bowl down with a clang. They had closed the basement door and most of the room was covered in warding. There was no way Mara could escape. Sam struck a match and dropped it into the bowl. 

There was a tense moment of silence. Crowley got to his feet.

In the blink of an eye, a petite woman no older than 20 or 21 appeared in front of them. Mara's chosen meatsuit looked like...well, kind of like an asian schoolgirl. She had big brown eyes and dark hair in a layered cut that brushed her shoulders. She wore an oversized white sweater, baby pink leggings, and cutesy yellow sneakers with white polka dots.

"Finally!" The demon said excitedly to Crowley, ignoring Sam completely. "I was waiting for you to call for me!"

She wasn’t what Sam had expected at all. If fighting demons had taught him anything over the years, it was that they came in all shapes and sizes. So what if she looked like one of the girls from Dean’s Japanese cartoons? Whatever. What irritated Sam way more was the way she was eying up Crowley. He frowned and took a few steps back closer to the King of Hell. 

Crowley just sort of shook his head at the demon, crossing his arms.

"You say that as if you're not trying to assassinate me — poorly, might I add."

Mara tilted her head, glancing from him slowly to Sam.

"Is that what this Winchester told you I've done?" Her pretty brown eyes turned into pools of red, and the sweet smile at Sam looked so much more sinister now. "Oh, my King, don't think so badly of me... I only wanted to show you my power — to demonstrate how well I would fit on the throne of Hell by your side! I even caught YOU off guard. Aren't you impressed?"

Crowley grabbed the stair railing, leaning on it a little. The look on his face did not say "impressed" — more like "exasperated."

"Really? Look at me. Do you honestly believe that the angel you've been palling around with DIDN'T intend for this to kill me?"

As if on cue, there was a rustle of feathers...and a tall man appeared in the corner, gaunt and dead-eyed. His dark skin made him seem like a shadow over there in the candlelight, especially with the shaven head and plain black clothing.

Dumah.


	24. Facing Off

Sam moved back up the steps to Crowley’s side, taking the King’s arm and helping him stand up straight. They were going to face these idiots together. 

“If you didn’t want him to die, why put a life-draining symbol on him? If he didn’t come for me for help he’d be dead right now!” As soon as he raised his voice, Sam reminded himself to stay calm. Screaming at the nasty little demon wouldn’t help. Maybe she’d realize that Crowley was almost dead and help him. 

"He was supposed to summon ME!" Mara snapped, stomping her foot. The youthful body made it look even more childish. "The angel helped me banish you from Hell, my King, but only that — and in exchange for a string pulled here or there. He has no wish to upset Hell's order, either!"

She was back to the shining brown eyes, and her bottom lip trembled like she was going to cry. "I-if you died how could we rule together...?"

The angel, who had been absolutely silent this entire time, suddenly headed straight across the room toward Sam and Crowley. He completely ignored the Devil's Trap Mara was confined to, walking right through it.

Crowley, meanwhile, wasn't even looking at Mara. He was leaning against Sam and wincing. The symbol glowed so much it shone right through the chest of his suit.

In a single motion, Sam pulled the lighter from his back pocket, clicked the switch and threw it on the edge of the devil’s trap. The holy oil blasted the room with a hellfire of red light as it ignited. They’d expected an angel ambush when they set this whole thing up.

Crowley actually sat up at the light from the flames, blinking.

Dumah had stopped in his tracks, not four inches from the edge of the ring. He took one very deliberate step back, fixing a grim glare on Sam. If looks could kill, it would all be over.

Behind him, Mara was glancing around them with wide eyes.

"What were you going to do?" She demanded of the angel, eyes flaring red and small hands clenching into fists. "You DID mean to kill the King! How DARE you void the rules of our deal!"

The angel glared her down, too.

Sam leaned Crowley against the stair railing, drawing the angel blade from under his jacket and moving down the steps to the fiery ring. If they didn’t kill each other, he would. 

Mara looked almost panicked at the fact that Crowley was no longer on his feet. She turned on the angel, gritting her teeth. 

"You're one of them, aren't you? Those backwards traditionalists who think Lucifer should be on the throne."

His silence was answer enough. Silence and a cold smile.

At that, the little demon lost her temper and dove at him, fists raised. "Crowley is a greater King than ANY angel would ever be...!"

Before Sam could even reach the ring of fire, Dumah had shoved a palm against Mara's forehead. The demon shrieked, a ghastly skull-like orange face flickering beneath her human one, and then her body collapsed to the floor.

Smited. Just like that. Her usefulness to the angel had clearly run out.

One down, Sam thought as he stepped over the burning edge of the devil’s trap. 

Dumah turned to him, the cold little smile back. To most angels, a human was a laughable threat — like a bug picking a fight with the windshield.

The fact that he'd flown in here proved that Dumah did NOT have burned wings like Castiel's. Crowley said he guarded the gates of Hell, so it was possible he hadn't been in Heaven when the rest of the angels fell. That and the easy smiting of Mara meant he was probably at full power.

And there Sam was, armed with an angel blade and his wits.

He didn’t hesitate. He swung the shiny silver blade at the angel’s neck. If he played this right, his plan would work. He just had to stay alive until they were in the right position.

The angel stepped easily aside and out of his way, looking unimpressed. It really was kind of eerie how silent he was.

In fact, Sam could hear more from Crowley, across the room with a hand over his chest hissing in pain, than he heard from Dumah. The fire in the summoning bowl crackled softly, and the smell of burning herbs wafted around them.

“Come on!” Sam side stepped too, just far enough to peek at the demon. They didn’t have long. He needed that symbol off now.

He’d done a little research while they set up the magic circle. According to the lore, the mark on Crowley was a mashup of two letters in ancient Aramaic — something Dumah was apparently known for. More importantly, if the writer died, the spell was undone. All he had to do was kill Dumah, and Crowley would live. That was so much easier said than done, though.

The angel glanced around them at the ring of holy fire, looking more and more annoyed with the situation. He still said nothing. Was he mute? Any other angels OR demons Sam had faced would be gloating right about now.

Sam stopped pacing suddenly and braced himself, charging the angel.

Disregarding him as any threat made Dumah's reaction time about a heartbeat slower than it would have been otherwise. He whirled, eyes flaring brilliant blue, and raised a hand in front of him like a weapon.

Sam had seen that move. Cas did that right before blasting doors or walls apart, or flinging demons through windows.

Sam grabbed the angel’s arm and threw his full weight backwards, flinging the eerie silent man over his head towards the basement stairs. The angel landed with his back on the flames. The angel blade went skittering across the hard floor, thumping against the bottom step. 

If Dumah was capable of screaming, he would have been doing it right now. As it was, the writhing around on the floor and kicking and struggling to crawl out of the fire were horrific enough to watch.

Sam might have had some sympathy for him if his handiwork wasn't burning Crowley's life away by the second.

Crowley sat up on the stairs just enough to see the angel blade at his feet. His eyes had gone red, and he looked very pale. They had just moments — moments left for him, and moments before the holy fire killed Dumah.

Scrambling to snag the angel blade again, Sam barely remembered that they needed his grace in time. How was he supposed to collect it? When Cas extracted Gadreel’s grace from him, it had been in his throat. Instead of shanking Dumah where he lay, Sam braced a boot on the angel’s chest and slid the blade across his throat.

The gaunt man finally made a sound — voiceless, a wheezing inhale as he struggled to breathe. A blue thread of grace tendriled up into the air above him, and he stared at it in shocked disbelief, then up at Sam.

"Sam..." Crowley sounded faint. The metallic clinking at Sam's feet made him look down at the tiny vial the King of Hell had rolled his way. Stealing Dumah's grace had been Crowley's idea, and apparently he'd been planning it for awhile.

Sam picked up the vial with shaky hands and pressed it to the angel’s throat to capture the grace. The brunette watched as the glowing blue light swirled into the vial as if it had a mind of its own. As soon as it was inside, he rammed the blade through the angel’s chest. He would have left him alive if it weren’t for Crowley’s life hanging in the balance.

Dumah's eyes did not flare blue — he gave a voiceless gasp and lay still, dark eyes staring dead at the ceiling. Was it over? Did the mark on Crowley vanish with his death, or was it tied to the grace? Sam prayed he would not have to choose between saving Crowley or Castiel. He couldn’t make that choice.

“Crowley?” Abandoning the blade and the dead angel, he hurried to Crowley’s side. He slipped his arms around the demon and turned his face to look at him. 

Crowley's eyes were a bloody red, and his face still looked disturbingly pale around them. He blinked up at Sam, almost staring through him.

"You did it," he whispered, the red bleeding away to reveal hazel eyes beneath it. "I-it's done?"

“They’re dead.” Sam nodded, eyes tearing up already. He pulled the demon into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Was the symbol gone? He sat back and yanked Crowley’s nice button up shirt open enough to check.

Crowley winced a little, but didn't really protest. All signs of the smoldering mark under his skin were gone, although there was a darkness in its place like a bad bruise. The demon reached up and touched Sam's face, mustering a weary smile.

"You saved me, Moose."

Sam smiled in return, catching the outstretched hand in his. He kissed Crowley’s palm. 

“You s-still owe me a wish,” he mumbled, managing to sound neutral despite the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks. They’d pulled it off. Crowley wasn’t going to die.

The King of Hell had that look, the same one he'd made in the kitchen when Sam had said "I love you." Lost, almost. Sam’s tears seemed to affect him. After a moment, he struggled out of the brunette's arms and to his feet, gripping the stair rail for balance.

"I-I'm good to my word, but we should help Feathers first. I owe him," he said, straightening the collars of his half-unbuttoned shirt and jacket. "After that...whatever you like."

Sam rose to his feet too, moving to catch the demon’s arm in case he fell over. 

“Crowley, I…” His words failed him and he just shook his head. They had to go help Cas. There was no time to talk. It would have to wait, but…

Sam had already made his wish. Hadn’t Crowley heard him?


	25. Done Deal

The room was bathed in blue light. Castiel seemed to glow from the center of his chest as the stolen grace settled there just moments after Sam had poured it down his throat. His eyes flew open a moment later, flaring blue, and he sat up and stared at the gathering of people around the couch in bewilderment. 

“Cas!” Dean grabbed his hand before he could say anything, relief on his face.

The angel had been unconscious by the time Sam and Crowley had returned. Dean had been convinced he was gone — so convinced he’d been sitting there saying goodbye, and hadn’t even bothered to react when Juliet came over to lay at his feet and whine mournfully. It was a pretty sad scene to come back to. 

“Dean,” Cas said, staring at him, then up at Sam. “Sam...Crowley. W-what did you do?”

Sam smiled. He hadn’t had a chance to actually say goodbye before. He stepped closer and leaned down to give Cas a quick hug. 

“Welcome back, Cas!” He moved back again and glanced down at the demon beside him, then shrugged a little. “We, uh, had to get creative.”

With the symbol gone and Cas back on his feet, Sam couldn’t help wondering if Crowley would just leave. He had never admitted to having feelings for Sam. The brunette’s smile faded a little at the gloomy thoughts, but he was determined not to ruin the happy moment. Whether Crowley felt anything for him in return or not shouldn’t be important anymore. He was glad to see the demon up and about again. 

"We were going to kill Dumah anyway," Crowley added more bluntly. "Might as well not let his grace go to waste." At Castiel's suspicious frown, he added mildly, "And now I don't owe you anymore for sticking your neck out to heal me. That's just good business."

"Thank you." Dean actually sounded like he meant it, which was pretty rare when talking to Crowley. He definitely shot Sam a grateful look, too, though, before turning all of his focus back to the angel on the couch. Cas returned his gaze just as intently. "Could you guys, uh. Could you give us a minute?"

“Sure.” Sam pushed up his glasses and headed towards the kitchen, patting his leg. “Come on, Juliet.” If Crowley was leaving soon, at least Sam could pet the Hellhound one more time. Maybe feed her a steak for being such a good girl.

The clack of claws and the sound of happy panting told him that she was following. A pair of footsteps followed, too.

"What a week we've had," Crowley murmured, sounding amused about it. "This suit has seen better days, and so have I."

Sam crossed the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, scanning it for any large chunk of meat. Aha — a pack of meatballs. He snagged them and then a mixing bowl, dumping the meatballs into it like dog food and setting it on the floor for Juliet. Then he looked at Crowley, forcing a smile. It was blatantly fake, but Sam just didn’t have the energy to make it seem real. 

“I don’t know how you can stand to wear those things all the time,” he sighed. He had changed out of the old suit he had been wearing at the first chance he got before they summoned Mara. It had just reminded him too much of how it felt to be possessed by Crowley…and how he sort of kind of might have missed it. Just a little. 

The demon smirked at him, leaning up against the kitchen counter.

"Well, not ALL the time."

He glanced over at Juliet, who was happily chowing down on the frozen meatballs like they were kibble, and wrapped both arms around himself. "...It's too bad Mara's gone. Now I've got to deal with appointing a new King or Queen of the Crossroads, and that means paperwork."

“You weren’t seriously going to let her live after all that?” Sam said with a frown. “She was trying to force you to marry her. I would’ve killed her if I was in charge.”

"Even she knew better than that," Crowley said, back to the smirk. His eyes twinkled; how could he act like everything was over and resolved? Was that how things seemed to him? "Any nitwit who presumes they might fit on my throne with me usually gets turned to ash, so she was trying to show, not tell. Stupid, but I have to admire the creativity at least a little."

He shrugged. "Still probably would have ended her, though. I'm more interested in cleverness than shows of power."

Sam nodded, playing with the edge of the plastic bag the meatballs had been in. He folded it…then folded it again. If Crowley thought it was over, it probably was. He couldn’t expect anything more from a demon. Ruby had used him and now Crowley. The brunette sighed sadly. Hopefully someday he’d learn. He leaned and chucked the bag into the trash. 

"Speaking of paperwork," Crowley murmured, turning to him. "We never really made any formalities out of this, did we? No signing on the dotted line, no kisses to seal the deal..."

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said with another shrug. He leaned and stroked Juliet’s head, rubbing one of her ears. “Thanks for watching out for my brother,” he told the Hellhound sadly. “You’re a good girl.” 

Juliet nosed at his hand, licking it before digging back into her food.

As wonderful as kissing Crowley again sounded, it might actually involve a contract. As it was, without ever officially agreeing to anything, they could just part ways. Nothing owed. 

"Sorry, Moose, I can't do that." Crowley stepped around the counter, glancing at Juliet fondly. "This never was a deal for souls or for Hell...it was more of a personal favor. And you came through for me, so about that wish..."

“I already told you what I wished for and we…” Sam took a deep breath and straightened up to look Crowley in the eye. “We know it’s not possible. I release you from our deal. Or whatever,” he added glumly.

Crowley blinked and looked at the floor. It was such an unexpected, hurt little look — like Sam had slapped him. He had no response but that — not a word.

Sam’s first reaction was to reach for him and he did, placing a hand on Crowley’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Saving your life was all I wished for. I just wanted you to be alive. I promised Dean that I wouldn’t try to chase after you if you didn’t want me, so I won’t.” He put on his best brave face. “But…I really do love you. If you weren’t the King of Hell and I wasn’t a Winchester… I don’t know.” 

Great. Now he was rambling. 

"And I still believe you," Crowley whispered, catching Sam's hand against his face with one of his own. "And it's stupid of you, loving me. Can't help it, though, I suppose. Like I can't much help what I am..."

The calm facade seemed to crumble suddenly, and there were tears and panic in his eyes. He clutched at the hand he'd captured, brows pinching.

"Sam...Sam. Don't turn me away."

“M-me?” Sam stammered, dropping his own defenses. The look the demon wore was unbearable. It hurt. So much so that Sam could have sworn that the symbol was still burned into his chest. “I’ve told you that I love you over and over again, and you just stand there!” 

Crowley shook his head quickly, still clinging to Sam's hand. 

"I-I told you, nobody's ever..." He inhaled sharply, like it hurt, and the breath trembled dangerously close to a sob. "You don't even want to. Why do you want me to feel anything?"

“Because even if this is stupid and impossible, I want to be with you! I know it’ll be rough. People are going to try and kill us for it. I don’t care.” Sam took the demon in his arms. “I knew I’d die for you when I stepped into that circle with Dumah.”

Crowley hugged both arms around his waist, burying his face in the front of Sam's flannel shirt. He was shaking.

"D-demons can love. I could love...so much...if you give me the chance," he sniffled. "Nobody's ever wanted me to."

“I want you to,” Sam whispered in reply, rubbing his back. He leaned and placed a kiss on the King’s cheek. “I thought you didn’t want to give ME a chance,” he added with a humorless laugh.

Crowley sat up enough to peer up at him, smirking despite the tears on his face. 

"Can't be turned down or left alone if you walk out first," he said softly. "Nobody else can hurt you if you feel nothing…but I do." He touched Sam's face, the smile fading as he looked at the brunette's lips. "I-I'll try, for you. I'll try."

Sam leaned down and kissed the King of Hell at long last. 

Trying was all that he wanted. He was sure that, despite being a demon, Crowley was very capable of love. The moment in the church when he almost turned the demon human was proof of that to him. Crowley thought that he deserved to be loved — and Sam knew it was true.  


* * *

  
It had been a couple of days, and Crowley had completely recovered from any damage the symbol caused. Cas was still running on borrowed grace, but he was no longer on death's door, either. The King of Hell had completely ignored his job and stuck around to be with Sam, which was a pleasant surprise. He'd sent Juliet back yesterday, undoubtedly to keep an eye on the new King of the Crossroads. Ned, was it? Ed?

Didn't matter. Sam had just ducked into the kitchen to make coffee for a few minutes, but when he stepped back out into the living room, the place was deserted. Dean and Cas had both just been sitting on the couch...

Sitting the two steaming cups of coffee down on the table, he glanced around.

“Dean?”

"He won't be back for a few days, I'm afraid." Crowley stepped over from the door to the hallway, smiling and standing up on his toes to kiss Sam’s cheek. "Good morning, darling."

Sam blushed. Now that he wasn’t half-dead, sleep deprived or high off of being possessed, he could enjoy the demon’s usual charming self. He pecked a kiss on Crowley’s cheek in trade. 

“Good morning. Where’d he go?” 

"He AND the angel," Crowley purred, slipping both arms around his waist, "asked me to send them back to that little dust bowl where the broken down car is. Something tells me they'll take their time getting it running again...which means this great big bunker is all ours."

Crowley really hadn't changed that much in the past few days. Apparently all of the flirting and pet names were sincere, at least in Sam's case. He was definitely a lot more touchy feely than usual, though. It seemed like he couldn't keep his hands off of Sam.

Sam looped his arms around the demon in return, smiling. 

“Oh, that’s good. I’ve got so many books to read. It’s good there’s no distractions around here,” he teased, lifting Crowley’s hand to kiss his fingers.

"Well, then. I'd better go with you to help you...study," the demon murmured, pulling his hand aside to press his lips to Sam's. It was the lightest touch of a kiss, but it promised so much more. "Shall we?"

“I hope you’re ready for an all-nighter.” Stepping away from him, Sam tugged on the demon’s tie with a smirk. 

"I'll tell Hell to hold my calls," Crowley said sweetly, stepping after him. As if on cue, Sam's phone buzzed with a message.

“Hold that thought,” Sam replied. Frowning, the brunette pulled the phone out and checked it.

It was a text from Cas. _Dean says not to drive his car,_ the angel had put, along with a little yellow smiley emoji. _Crowley can take you places._

How right he was.


End file.
